Invader Zim: The Last Full Measure
by Dr-Lovekill
Summary: A time machine sends Zim, Dib, Tak and Gir back to Gettysburg, July 1863. Can they survive the battle, and the horrors of war? As they learn, let us learn about the honor, courage, and tragedy of the Battle of Gettysburg. Rated for violence and language
1. Chapter 1:Looking to the Past

CHAPTER 1: Looking to the Past

_On July 1 1863, Union and Confederate forces met at a small farming town in southern Pennsylvania. What followed was to become one the bloodiest battles in American history. Close to 50,000 men died in what became the major turning point in the Civil War. It is to all the men who gave their last full measure of devotion, to all those on both sides who sacrificed everything for their cause that I dedicate this. And it is to two of those men, Generals Winfield Scott Hancock, and Lewis Armistead that I make a special dedication to. The friendship that these two men shared, and the tragedy that brought them together on opposite sides of the battlefield stands as a symbol of what the Civil War really was: A war between friends, between brothers, between neighbors. I have attempted to make this fic as historically accurate as possible. There will be some discrepancies, of course, and feel free to point them out. _

Zim adjusted the final bolt on the behemoth of a machine that he had just constructed. He stepped back from the impressive archway of metal, glass and blinking lights and looked upon his newly-construed device.

"Perrrrfect…" Zim grinned evilly. He looked at his robot sidekick. "GIR, with this time-space displacement device, I can go back in time and use the primitive humans' inferior brains to take over. When they see my amazing power, they will bow down to me! Then I, ZIM shall become ruler of the WORLD!"

"Ohhhhhh…" Gir said, awestruck. "Does it make cotton candy?" Zim facepalmed and shook his head.

"I've created something special for YOU, Gir." Zim said, holding up a chip.

"Oooooo, whatizit?" The little robot said, amazed.

"It's a chip designed to make you act like a GOOD dog while you're in disguise. We can't take any chances on messing this up. Do you understand Gir?"

"Yes." Gir answered. Then he began to look confused. "Wait….no."

"Here." Zim said, opening Gir's head. "I'll just…" He fumbled around inside the mostly empty head of his robot servant, and finally locked the chip into place. "And THERE!" Zim took a few prideful steps back. "Gir! DOG MODE!" Immediately, the robot pulled on his newer, non-green dog suit, which made him look a bit like an ugly, misshapen basset. "Excellent." Zim said lowly. "Sit!" Gir obeyed for once, sitting like a dog. "Talk!"

"Arooof!" Gir said, imitating a dog horribly."

"Eh, well, better than nothing." Zim sighed. "Let's warm up the machine.

Meanwhile, Dib and Tak walked toward Zim's base. It hadn't taken long after Tak's return for the two to team up to finally end Zim. Tak no longer cared for destroying the Earth, so Dib had no qualms against working with her. He was secretly glad Tak had come to him for the task. He still had an unrequited crush on the alien invader. He looked at her as they walked. The wind blew through the blue hair of her human disguise. She glanced at him, and Dib felt like butter. He was in love. But how could he tell her? How could he prove himself worthy of…

"Watch out for that pole." Tak said.

"Huh?" Dib asked. WHACK! Dib walked right into a telephone pole. 'Genius' Dib mentally cursed himself. He straightened his round glasses and regained his composure. "So what's the plan again?" He asked with an upraised eyebrow. Tak sighed.

"It's gonna be simple this time, Dib." Tak replied. "We'll get to Zim's base, and I'll remove any security devices out front. We'll storm his house, and catch him by surprise."

"Uhh-huh…" Dib said.

"Yes, you get Zim to dissect, or turn into the army or whatever." Tak said with a wave of her hand. "But I get to kill him."

"Deal." Dib said with a smile. They reached Zim's circus-looking house. The two stood at the sidewalk a moment. Tak cracked her knuckles.

"You ready, Dib?" Tak asked with an evil grin. Dib smiled deviously too.

"Oh…MAN, am I ready for this." He replied.

Zim watched the lights on the machine blink, becoming more and more steady. A low whirring sound filled the air. Zim reached for the keypad, and began punching in numbers.

"Gotta get this right." Zim muttered. "Unless there coordinates are set right, who KNOWS when in this fffffilthy planet's history I'd end up." He shuddered dramatically. Gir licked himself in the middle of the floor. "Almoooost, aaand…" Suddenly, the door burst open.

"Hold it right there, Zim!" Dib called.

"Dib!" Zim growled.

"You're dead, so give it up!" Tak said, leaping into the room.

"Tak!" Zim growled. "How did you get past my base's defenses?"

"Never mind that, Zim!" Tak sneered. "We're…"

"How did you get past my base's defenses?!" Zim yelled at the ceiling with clenched fists.

"Well, we…" Dib began to answer.

"How did you get past my base's defenses?!" Zim interrupted.

"Shut up!" Tak yelled, diving at Zim.

"Yes!" Dib exclaimed. "Get him, Tak!" He called, and ran to where the fight was breaking out.

"Get off of me!" Zim yelled. He shoved Tak off, and she stumbled back, grabbing Zim's collar as she fell. She toppled into Dib, and the trio fell through the metal archway, but not out the other side. Gir watched the whole thing, then barking badly, jumped through after his master.

_Well, that was chapter one. Please review. I haven't written an IZ fic in a while, and being out of the game so long, I'm worried I may be a bit rusty. Ah well. Until next time, cheerio!_


	2. Chapter 2: Buford

Chapter 2: Buford

_Here we are, at chapter 2. You get to meet an unsung hero of the battle, General John Buford, and see how the guys deal with being trapped in 1863! But before we go on, I don't own Invader Zim. All the Civil War characters are REAL PEOPLE, and based off of those people through letters, photos, and journals kept by the people, or those around them. And I don't think it matters, but I don't own Gettysburg PA either...or I would have made Lee attack the Union left flank instead of the center. Ah well, read and review._

The four awakened from the painful lethargia brought about by the time/space device. Dib opened his eyes, groaned, and sat up. He was in a small field flanked by groves of trees. He silently prayed that Zim's machine hadn't worked, but he didn't recognize this strange area.

"Ughhh…" Zim groaned as he came to. "Stupid Dib-monkey…" He muttered. Before he could sit up, Dib had sat on top of him, and gripped the front of Zim's shirt.

"ZIM!" Dib cried angrily. "What did you do?! Where are we? _When_ are we?!" Zim shoved Dib off and sat up.

"Well I would _know_ if you and Tak hadn't interfered with the programming of my INGENIOUS time machine, Dib-worm. It's _your_ fault we're lost, and when I get back, I may just leave you two here for causing me so much trouble." While Zim ranted, Tak came to, and proceeded to approach Zim from behind, and clobber him with a fist to the back of the head.

"You're DEAD, Zim!" Tak yelled. She dove into him, and the two Irkens rolled in the grass, each trying to get the upper hand.

"Guys." Dib said. Zim and Tak continued fighting. "Guys? GUYS!" The two invaders looked up at Dib. "Not to interfere with your killing each other, but we _do _have a serious problem, you know?" Tak and Zim released each other, and stood up.

"We're trapped who knows where and who knows when." Tak scoffed. "What do you plan we do, _Dib_?"

"I…I dunno." Dib replied.

"Well…" Zim said as GIR awakened from snoring away. "_We're_ going to go find a way back. You can do whatever you want. Come on, GIR!"

GIR let out a very bad "aroof", and leaped up to joined Zim as he walked off into the trees.

"Zim, wait!" Dib called.

"Let him go." Tak sighed. "We stand a better chance trying to find our way back without that idiot screwing with our attempt."

"We?" Dib asked, surprised that Tak was willing to work with him on something.

"Yes…_we_." Tak replied. "Despite what goes through Zim's empty head, a good soldier knows when to ask for help during a mission."

"You know," Dib said. "I never really understood the…allure in being a soldier. Devoting my life to fighting, dying in someone else's battles, it never seemed very…enticing." Tak narrowed her eyes.

"Being a soldier, training to be the ultimate warrior means reaching the pinnacle of mental and physical evolution." Tak explained. "It strengthens your body, and your discipline, and nothing is more important than being an Irken elite, fighting and dying for your loyalty."

"Still…" Dib admitted. "Going out and dying for honor and other people …it just seems a little stupid and barbaric to me, I guess."

"So I'm stupid and barbaric, am I?" Tak asked snidely.

"No, no, no…" Dib replied, blushing a little. "I just meant that…I mean…." Tak smiled slyly.

"Save the explanations, Dib." She said. "Let's go. We gotta try to find out exactly where we are." The blue-haired alien-in-disguise began walking along the path, in the opposite direction Zim had taken a few minutes earlier. Dib followed behind Tak, looking about the countryside, trying to find something, anything that looked familiar to him.

In topography, the land was rolling country, composed of low hills, with higher areas in several places. Between himself and the horizon, Dib noted that the land was divided into large acreages, fenced off from each other, with small groves of trees scattered throughout the paddocks. Dib thought the place somewhat picturesque, and if he weren't in such a dire predicament, he may have actually liked it. He began to wonder if crop circles ever appeared in the fields.

"Dib, hide!" Tak called in a harsh whisper. She took him by the hand and pulled him into a bush beside the lane.

"What is it?" Dib whispered.

"Shhhhhh." Tak shushed. She looked down the road anxiously. Dib listened, and after a few moments, he heard a strange, staccato thumping sound. The rhythmic beating grew louder and faster, and the ground began to vibrate. Suddenly, from around a bend in the road came two horsemen, followed by a large group of riders in well defined columns, four abreast. As the riders passed, Dib noted their strange attire. The men were all dressed in dark blue caps, and jackets with gold buttons. They wore light blue pants, and many had on tall, black boots. The rider in front wore a lighter blue coat than the others, and a black hat with crossed swords on it, and held a smoking pipe in his mouth as he rode. As Dib and Tak watched silently from the foliage, the rider in front, an older man with a graying moustache, held up his right hand, and reined his horse to a stop. The other riders stopped as well, and the older horseman's companion turned toward the mass of mounted men.

"DETAIL!" He called. "Diiiiiiismount!" Upon the order, eight of the horsemen climbed off of their horses, retrieving rifles from scabbards on their saddles. They began looking about in all directions. Dib and Tak all but tried to melt into the ground.

"Do you really think they'll come into town from this direction, general?" The man who had given the order asked the older man. The general took the pipe from his mouth and still staring forward said:

"I reckon they will. Old Heath is still around somewhere, and my guess is he's gonna try to sweep into town…maybe Hill's entire corp, right down the Pike."

"What are we to do, sir?" The other man asked.

"We'll ride into town, make the people happy. But Colonel Devin, I do believe come tomorrow, we're gonna have to fight like the devil until we get support. Maybe we can hold 'em off till then.

"So…" Dib thought to himself, "It's some kind of war. But when? It's somewhere in America, but the men are riding horses. Soldiers haven't rode horses since the late 1800's, right?

"Damn." Tak whispered, shaking Dib from his thoughts.

"Hey, you kids! Come out of there! One of the soldiers yelled, pointing his rifle toward the bush. At the alarm, all of the dismounted men moved to stand beside the one who had called out, and pointed their weapons. Several of the horsemen pulled rifles and pistols and aimed them. Dib looked nervously at Tak.

"Tak?" He whispered.

"We can make it." She said, starting to draw back.

"They have guns!" Dib argued. "They've got us."

"Blast it…" Tak growled.

"Don't shoot!" Dib called, raising his arms, and standing.

"Come on out of there!" One of the soldiers ordered.

"Alright!" Dib said, Tak rising beside him. They started out of the bush. "We're not the enemy or whatever, okay?"

"We'll be the judge of that, son." A man with a pistol and yellow stripes on his sleeve replied. As the two stepped toward the soldiers, they were partially surrounded by the men. The general and his companion rode over to get a better look at their new prisoners.

"What were you kids doing hiding in the bushes?" The man the general had called Devin asked. "Spying, perhaps?"

"No, no, no." Dib stammered. "We're not spying on anyone, we just heard a noise and hid, and…"

"We don't have to tell you people anything." Tak said defiantly, crossing her arms.

"Well, missy," The general replied. "I'd think you do, and you'd better. These fellows here may get it in mind to shoot you for being spies if you don't convince 'em otherwise.

"Well," Tak began. "Like Dib here said, we were walking down this road, and we heard your horses coming, and jumped into that bush. Who wouldn't want to hide from a bunch of soldiers riding beasts toward them?"

"You don't know Harry Heath?" Devin asked. Dib and Tak both raised their eyebrows.

"Never met him." Dib replied

"What do you know of A.P. Hill?" The general asked.

"I don't know where that is." Dib said, confused. The general nodded to Devin.

"At ease." The colonel ordered. The men lowered their weapons. The general and Devin dismounted and walked up to Dib and Tak.

"We're sorry about that, youngsters." The general said. "With the enemy so near, we can't take any chances. I'm General John Buford. This is Colonel Devin, one of my best field officers. To whom do I owe this pleasure?"

"Huh?" Dib said. "Oh. My name is Dib Membrane, and this is Tak." General Buford squinted an eye.

"Awful strange names people a' givin kids these days." Buford said. "Strange outfits too. Where you all from?"

"Pretty far from here." Dib replied, avoiding the question. "But what we'd like to know is where _are_ we?"

"Left home, eh?" Devin asked. "Well, if you're going to run off and wander about and try to live on your own, you'd best know where you are, I guess. You two are a couple miles outside of Gettysburg."

"Gettysburg…" Dib repeated in a whisper.

"Um…we came into this area last night…" Tak lied, using her information-gathering training. "The guy that dropped us off didn't tell us much about _where_ he dropped us off, and we've come really far in the last couple of days." She looked at Dib. "Are we still even in the same _state_?"

"Pennsylvania?" General Buford asked.

"Okay." Tak said. Dib thought on this for a moment. Gettysburg Pennsylvania…soldiers on horseback…a war…It suddenly struck him, and his legs felt weak. He realized to his horror that they'd been stranded in the middle of the bloodiest battle in the Civil War.

"We have to move out." Buford said. "And I'm sorry, but given the circumstances, I reckon I gotta take you two with me." Dib looked around at the still-armed men, eying them cautiously.

"Do we…really have a choice?" He asked.

"No other that you'd be interested in." Buford replied with a slight smile. Two of the soldiers half-helped, half-forced Dib and Tak onto their horses before climbing on.

"Troop!" Devin called. "Mount up." A bugler played a call on his horn, and all the horsemen climbed onto their steeds and holstered their weapons.

"We'll set up overlooking the Chambersburg Pike." Buford said to Devin. "We'll have a good position near the Seminary, and get online, maybe we can stall the Rebs from coming into town until Reynolds shows up."

"Tak?" Dib said from his seat on the horse next to Tak's. She looked at him, hearing the fear in his voice.

"What, Dib?" She asked. The boy had a look of worry on his face, and she could sense his apprehension.

"This is gonna get bad."


	3. Chapter 3: The Rebels

Chapter 3: The Rebels

_I'm somewhat dismayed that this story has only been read a handful of times, and reviewed only by my fiancée, 2 friends and one loyal reader. I guess in my long absence, all of my former fans either left the site, or just forgot about me. Or maybe I've lost my ability to spin a good yarn. Please read and review. Notwithstanding my lack of readers, I will continue and finish this story. It is for all of the men who fought and died at Gettysburg that I'm writing this. So, whether it be preached to a crowded room, or whispered in the dark, this story will go on._

Zim strutted down the lane with Gir close behind. Totally oblivious to his surroundings, and not making an attempt to make sense of where or when he might be, the poorly disguised alien invader bombastically traipsed down the wide dirt road, complaining about his enemies.

"Stupid Dib-worm." He grumbled. "Always attempting to thwart my ingenious plans. I'll show him, oh yes, _I'll _ show _him_." Zim said, shaking a fist. "Dib and Tak will rue the day they ever messed with Ziiiim!"

"Ya'll hold it!" A voice called angrily. Zim froze. He had walked right into the midst of 6 men. They were dressed in uniforms, most were grayish outfits, with two of the men wearing a brown-colored uniform. Definitely some type of soldiers, he realized. He was suddenly glad that he had remembered to activate his disguise.

"Zim holds nothing!" Zim cried angrily. His outburst was met by the cocking of 6 rifles.

"Son," One of the men with blue stripes on his grey jacket said. "If you don't kindly keep it down and act like a prisoner, I reckon we're gonna have ta shoot ya."

"Your pitiful weapons do not scare _me_!" Zim shouted. The man with the stripes on his sleeve fired his rifle. The shot thundered as the man shot a large branch from a tree, dropping it in front of Zim. "Er…okay, maybe they scare me a little." Zim said, cringing.

"Put up your hands, boy." The man said. Zim obliged. "Now you walked right into our picket line with the enemy all over the place, so we gotta take you to the general to see if'n you're a spy or not."

"The General…" Zim thought to himself. "Perfect opportunity to meet the leader of earth's defenses." He smiled at the man. "Very well." He said. "Let us go. Gir, come!"

"Sergeant Sanor?" One of the men asked.

"Ahh, the man in charge waved. "Let him take 'is dog with 'im." Zim was somewhat surprised that he wasn't handcuffed or otherwise bound. But then again, he was being led from all sides by six men with rifles, all with long blades attached to them, so running wasn't exactly an option worth considering.

"Sooo…" Zim said to the man in charge as they walked. "You're a soldier, I see." The sergeant, Sanor scoffed.

"I'd reckon so." He said.

"And…who is this general?" Zim asked.

"For a yankee spy, you ain't very bright, are ya?" Sanor said.

"Spy?" Zim replied. "Zim is no spy, and certainly not a yankee spy, whatever that is!"

"I figure as much myself. Them yankees'd want a spy to be a little quieter and a little smarter'n you." Zim clenched his teeth angrily. "But if you have to know, I was speakin' of my commandin' officer, General Pettigrew."

"So General Pettigrew is the general of your army?" Zim asked.

"Don't you know nothin'?" Sergeant Sanor spat. "Lee's the general of MY army. Pettigrew's just my brigade commander." Zim was absorbing the information on this strange army, when a man on a horse came galloping up. He wore a grey uniform, more neat in appearance than the soldiers who had captured Zim. On the collars of his coat, he wore blue patches with two gold stripes. He reined his horse to a stop.

"Sergeant Sanor!" He called, seeming to stare holes in all the men, and glowering at Zim. "What was that fire?"

"Lieutenant H Harmon," Sanor said, saluting. "We captured this strange boy tryin' to cross our picket line, sir."

"And who did you SHOOT?" The officer asked impatiently.

"We didn't shoot nobody, sir." Sanor replied. "I fired a warning shot's all."

"Sergeant," Harmon growled. "The Yankees could be a damned stones throw away, god knows where. You are NOT to fire unless it's to put the lead into somebody, am I understood?"

"Yes sir." Sergeant Sanor said like a child being punished.

"We are NOT to give away our position." Harmon added. He looked at Zim. "And what of your prisoner?"

"I figured I'd take 'im to the General to see what he wanted to do with him. I don't reckon he's a spy, but it's better to be safe than sorry, sir." The lieutenant nodded.

"I'll take him myself." Harmon said. He nodded at Zim. "Son, Climb on." Two of the soldiers helped Zim onto the horse. Zim sat nervously on the animal, never having ridden a beast before. One of the soldiers held up Gir, and Zim quickly grabbed him before the disguised robot could do something stupid and give them away. The lieutenant spurred the horse, and they were quickly on their way.

As they rode, Zim noticed a couple more "pickets" as the group who had captured him had been called. They stood at attention and saluted as the lieutenant rode by. Zim couldn't help but like lieutenant Harmon a little. Everyone so far saluted him, and he yelled at everyone a lot, qualities Zim thought important in a military officer.

Soon, they came to a mass of soldiers, all carrying rifles, standing in loose formations. Zim recognized what this was: a military expedition preparing to march. Despite the fact that they were using what Zim considered ineffective and obsolete weapons, he couldn't help but be impressed at the hundreds of men in rectangular formations with the long rifles, the squads of horsemen with their long gleaming swords, and the huge cannons, their bores staring out ominously like vacant yet all-seeing eyes.

"Ain't it something?" Lieutenant Harmon asked, speaking to Zim for the first time.

"Yes…QUITE impressive." Zim replied.

"There's a fight coming soon, and we're gonna take the fight to the enemy, and win this thing once and for all." Zim was about to ask what the fight was about, when the lieutenant stopped in front of a group of more mounted officers and saluted. An older man in a meticulous light grey uniform with gold braiding forming loops high up onto the sleeves saluted back. He had a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, dark brown, but starting to turn grey, showing his age.

"General Pettigrew, sir." Lieutenant Harmon said.

"Lieutenant, any news from our pickets?" General Pettigrew asked. The way he spoke and conducted himself was that of a man of intelligence and means.

"Sir, Sergeants O'Brian and Smith report nothing but some militia moving into town from the south. I don't believe that they are aware of our whereabouts." Lieutenant Harmon reported.

"If the stupid enemy isn't aware of your position," Zim said. "You should surround them, and crush them like a moose crushes walnuts!" General Pettigrew looked at Zim and smiled.

"And who is this young strategist?" He asked.

"A prisoner captured by Sergeant Sanor, Sir." Harmon replied. "Trying to cross a picket line. He may be a spy."

"I see." Pettigrew said. "What is your name, lad?"

"Zim." Zim simply said.

"Ah…just Zim, eh?" The general remarked. "I'm General James Pettigrew, formerly of the University of North Carolina. How come you to find our army?"

"Eh?" Zim asked.

"Why were you out stumbling through our pickets?" Harmon translated.

"Oh, that…" Zim said. "I was just out…walking my dog. Can't a normal human child walk down a road without getting captured by an army?"

"I'm afraid this war has had an even larger cost than human lives…" Pettigrew said. "It's changed everything." He sighed. "Hopefully, this will be the last battle. Then we won't have to lose anymore."

"Philosophies are best left for after the battle, Mr. Pettigrew." A voice said. Two horsemen rode up to the group. The one who had spoken was a tall man with a black moustache and black hair, slicked back underneath one of the strange grey caps most of the men wore, only his headgear was covered in gold braid. On each lapel of his grey coat was three gold stars. The other man was an older man with a full brown and white beard, who wore a wide, floppy black hat with a gold band. He had a baggy grey coat draped across his broad shoulders, with gold stars on his collar.

"General Heath. General Hill, sir." Pettigrew said, saluting. Harmon and the other soldiers saluted as well. The two newly arrived generals returned the salutes.

"General Heath," The older general said. "Since there doesn't seem to be a pressing force in Gettysburg, I instruct you to take your division into town along the Chambersburg Pike. We still need shoes for the men, and we had best get them whilst the enemy is still tented up in bivouac at Middleburg."

"Sir, If there is no objection, I will take my division tomorrow and get those shoes." The other general, who Zim figured as Heath said. He turned to Pettigrew. "Sir, I put your men in the front of the line. Your brigade will be in charge of reconnoitering and deploying skirmishers." Pettigrew saluted.

"Wait…you're invading a town to get…shoes?" Zim asked.

"Yes, young man," General Hill said. "I suppose the secret is out." The other men smiled or chuckled a bit. "Our men are without much provisions, and we feel it's prudent to liberate some footwear from this town while we have the opportunity.

"General Heath, sir." Pettigrew said to the dark haired commander. "I have with me here a lad picked up by one of my pickets. Though it's unlikely he's a federal scout, no one seems to know exactly what to do with him." Heath looked at Zim a moment and sighed.

"I suppose he can ride to the rear with me." Heath replied. "Well lad," He said to Zim. "Looks like you're coming back to headquarters for a while."

"Yeah, sure, okay." Zim replied. 'Finally,' he thought to himself, 'an opportunity to meet the general of this army, and once I get him under my control, I can conquer this world with my new army of humans!'

"Lieutenant," Heath ordered. "help the boy onto my horse." The two men transferred Zim and Gir onto General Heath's great black horse. "General Hill, Sir." Heath said to the other commander. "Shall we retire to camp now, sir? The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania has allotted us a good deal of liberated chickens and fresh bread."

"I believe I will do so, General." Hill replied with a smile. He saluted Pettigrew and the officers. "Carry on, general."


	4. Chapter 4: THe Battle Begins

Chapter 4: The Battle Begins

_Well, after 3 chapters, the battle finally begins. All events and historical figures in this fic have been researched thoroughly, and I want to not only tell a story, but present everything herein as it really happened, moment by moment, and portray the people as they were in life_

General Buford watched the ranks of men in grey marching in formation along the Pike in the light drizzle of rain toward his position. He lowered his field glasses, and turned to where his field commanders were mounted, awaiting orders. Dib and Tak stood anxiously watching the scene unfold.

"Colonel Gamble," Buford said, "Set your men up along Willoughby Run creek. I want a thousand yard line from the rail bed, south across the Chambersburg Pike. Devin, you and your 2nd brigade set up north of the rail cut, and anchor your flank at the base of that hill."

"Yes sir!" The men saluted.

"Is Calef's battery up yet, lieutenant?" Buford asked an orderly.

"He's got his guns in position, and he's almost on line, sir."

"Good. Good." Buford said, looking out toward the approaching enemy. "I want several companies of each brigade held in reserve. Maybe mask our numbers and confuse the enemy. Men, to your posts. There's a fight comin', and we're gonna fight like the Devil. We have good ground here, and we're gonna _hold it._" The officers rode off to their positions. Buford looked to Dib and Tak. Tak had borrowed a rubber poncho and a grey wide brimmed slouch hat to keep the rain off of her, and no one would protest keeping a young girl dry. "You kids stay near to me. There's not gonna be many safe places around here soon." Buford said

"Okay, General Buford, sure." Dib said nervously. Tak stood calmly, as if she were watching a movie unfold. "Aren't you scared at all?" Dib asked. "There's about to be a big battle, you know." Tak raised an eyebrow.

"And this concerns me…how?" She scoffed. "I've seen battles a lot worse than this one could ever be. And if I were in charge of this brigade, I'd beat the enemy into submission in five minutes."

The enemy came within 100 yards, still marching down the lane. Dib could see the silvery barrels of some of their rifles. He looked nervously at Buford, whose eyes were locked on the line of approaching men.

"Hold." He grumbled. Dib watched them get closer…closer. They were now within 75 yards. "Fire." Buford growled.

"Fire!" The line officers began yelling. The long line of dismounted cavalrymen fired a volley. The enemy returned a volley, and a couple of Buford's men fell dead. Dib yelped, and fell to the ground fearfully. Tak still stood, staring at the enemy. 'Just like Buford'. Dib thought. 'Not afraid at all. A true soldier.' Another volley from each side met with even deadlier results than the first. Now cannons thundered, splintering the fence along the pike, and sending handfuls of men into the air, to rain down broken and bloody. Dib felt sick. He had never seen anything so brutal, so terrible. The men on both sides now fired at will, and the air was thick with gunshots, smoke, and flying rounds.

"You kids come with me, and stay low to the ground. Buford said, walking past Dib and Tak toward the large brick building behind them, which the general had called "The Seminary". The two followed him, Dib cringing with every exploding shell and bullet striking near, but Tak walking calmly beside Buford. Two officers took up stride beside the general. The group entered the building, and climbed a long set of stairs to the round observation dome on the roof of the building. Buford looked out over the battle raging on the landscape below, then looked with anxiety back toward town.

"What is it, General Buford?" Tak asked.

"General Reynolds." Buford replied, lowering his binoculars. "If he doesn't come up soon, I don't know if my boys can hold out. The rebs come into this town and occupy the high ground, there'll be the devil to pay. They take the high ground, and when Meade orders an attack, as I know he probably will, and our entire army'll be butchered in the charge."

"You have a good position." Tak said. "And you're on high ground. I think you can hold."

"It is good ground." Buford replied. "It is that." He looked to one of the officers. "I'm goin' down." The young lieutenant opened the hatch, and Buford climbed down the stairs.

"Come on, Dib." Tak said.

"I think I'll…stay here for a while, you know…" Dib answered.

"I said come on!" She repeated, and grabbed the sleeve of his coat, half dragging him down the stairs. "You said this is the greatest battle in the history of this country unfolding, and I'm not gonna miss it." The three exited the Seminary as a captain rode up.

"General!" He called. "Colonel Gamble reports, sir. The enemy came up. Colonel Gamble put half his reserve forward. We drove 'em back sir, but they've reinforced and reformed and they're coming at us again. Colonel Gamble wants to know how many of his men to put into the fight, sir."

"Tell Gamble I want _all_ reserve forward." Buford ordered. "To Devin and Gamble: all men to the front."

"Yes sir!" The captain said, saluting. He wheeled his horse around and galloped off. Buford looked through his binoculars again. A shell exploded a few yards away. Dib yelped and fell to the ground again.

"You kids get somewhere safe!" Buford barked.

"I'm not afraid." Tak said calmly. "I've seen war before." Buford looked sternly at her, but said nothing.

Meanwhile, a few miles away, Zim sat on a light grey horse amid the staff of General Heath watching the officers conduct war. Spending a night at HQ with the officers of the Corp, Zim had learned why the armies were fighting, and what they were fighting for.

"We are fighting for our homes," A brigade commander named Archer had said. "Our homes and our way of life." He had looked at Zim as he spoke. "The Yankees, they just don't understand. The land they invade, the towns they attack…It's our families, our livelihoods, our history they're destroying. It's all just land and power to them."

Zim had listened (some would say "for once") as the confederates spoke of friends and relatives that had fallen in this war. As they had sat around a campfire, sharing stories, hopes, and fears, Zim somewhat sympathized with the Confederates, fighting the tyrannical rule of what they considered a foreign power. Zim had known many warriors, but none who ever fought for such a…noble cause, none who despite being effective soldiers also had a very compassionate side. He'd had to shake off these human feelings and turn his mind back to his original plan. If he played his cards right, he could easily work himself into the new Confederate States of America, and come to rule the new nation, he mused.

Suddenly from behind the group of commanders, there was a trumpeting, and a loud murmur. Zim turned to see an elderly man with a white beard riding toward Heath and his staff. He wore a grey uniform and a light grey, wide brimmed hat. The older man stopped beside General Heath.

"Mr. Heath." The man said. "We must ride." Heath nodded, and the two began to walk their horses beside each other, Zim riding close behind with the staff.

"Mr. Heath, I thought I ordered all commanders to not engage the enemy." The older man said sternly.

"General Lee, sir…" Heath began.

"My orders were to avoid _all_ contact with the enemy." Lee interrupted. " Is it possible you misunderstood these orders, sir?"

"No sir." Heath replied. "My men entered town this morning, and scouts reported what looked to be no more than 150 local militia. I sent in a regiment, and it turned out to be dismounted cavalry. Well, they reinforced and pushed us out, so I reformed and hit them again. But this time, they'd brought up reinforcements. Now, it's like half the damned Army of the Potomac's up there." Heath looked to be on the verge of panic. Zim wondered if it was due to having his army ambushed so badly, or having his superior officer chastise him.

"General Heath," Lee said calmly. "This is war, and things of this nature can and will happen, sir." Zim had never seen a leader like this Lee before. He commanded such respect from his subordinates, and yet he never seemed to yell or bark orders. With a calm and almost fatherly demeanor, he seemed to be able to control men. Loud thuds echoed in the distance. "What guns are those?" Lee asked. "Are those our cannon there?"

"I do not know sir." Heath replied. "But I will find out immediately, sir. Captain!" He called. One of the staff officers, a younger blonde man, rode forward.

"Sir?" He asked.

"Ride down the line. Find out whose guns those are, and report back with all possible speed. Do you understand?"

"Yessir!" The captain saluted. He spurred his horse and rode off at a breakneck speed.

"I have not heard from General Stuart for days, General Heath." Lee said. "I have no knowledge of enemy forces or positions."

"Sir!" A tired looking officer yelled, riding up hard. "Scouts report a large body of federal soldiers coming toward town. Looks like they're going to get reinforced…sir!" He saluted. Lee and Heath saluted half-heartedly, and the officer rode off in the direction he came. General Hill rode up next, and joined the cavalcade.

"Sir," Hill said, saluting Lee. "My men are starting to push the Yankees back. We must press on if we are to gain possession of the town and the high ground beyond."

"God's will." Lee said. "General Hill, sir. My orders to all commanders: attack. Attack at once."


	5. Chapter 5: Reynolds

Chapter 5: Reynolds

_Well, I'm back with another chapter. Did you miss me? Probably not, seeing as no one is really reading this anyway. Rather sad how the IZ fandom has withered. And besides, I really wouldn't miss myself either. When I die, they're gonna gather around my grave and say what a hateful, misanthropic, friendless, miserable old farmer I was, and I'll look up from the hot coals and agree with them. Anyway, here's the chapter. I don't own Invader Zim, and the rest of the characters are either completely real historical figures, or secondary characters I made up because I didn't feel like researching the names of every corporal, junior officer and adjutant in the army of the Potomac. Reviews? I'd appreciate a few._

Dib and Tak fell to the ground as a cannon shell exploded nearby, sending a cloud of dirt into the air. They looked up to see General Buford walking calmly through the dust.

"You alright?" He asked. Dib and Tak nodded in affirmation. "I'm goin' up to look around. You'd better come too." They stood and followed Buford back into the Seminary. The three started up the steep stairs to the observation dome.

"Gah." Dib complained. "If I have to climb these stairs again, my legs are going to fall off."

"Would you rather be out there with the bullets, Dib?" Tak asked. Dib groaned, and kept climbing. He wondered how Buford, who looked to be at least 50, stayed in shape enough to stay in the saddle or on foot constantly like he did. The general hurried up the steps, and out of the hatch. Dib and Tak stepped out after him. Buford pulled his binoculars to his eyes and looked out onto the battlefield. They heard him grumble something. He then turned, and looked to the north, before dropping his glasses to his chest.

"Thank God, it's Reynolds." He sighed. The two time travelers moved to the balcony and looked. A small group of horsemen were galloping hard toward the Seminary. The man in the lead stopped below the building.

"How are you, John?!" He yelled up.

"There's the Devil to pay!" Buford replied.

"Can you hold?" Reynolds asked.

"I reckon I can." Buford said.

"Reinforcements are deploying." Reynolds said.

"Good. Good." Buford nodded. "Oh, General Reynolds!"

"Yes, John?"

"I got two prisoners here I need to pass off to you, sir. " Buford said, nodding to Tak and Dib.

"Very well." Reynolds called up. "Send them down." Buford nodded to a man in a dirty blue uniform, who began to escort them out of the observation dome.

"You kids are goin' with General Reynolds. Buford said to the two. "You oughtta be safer with him than here. Good man, General Reynolds. He'll watch over you alright enough." The soldier began to lead them down the stairs.

"Good luck, General." Tak said. She found the old commander to be quite admirable.

"And to you." Buford replied in a somber tone. He looked back out over the battle below. "And to you."

Exiting the Lutheran school, Dib and Tak got their first good look at this Reynolds, whom General Buford had been hoping to see all morning. Tall and well dressed with a full brown beard, Reynolds sat upon his mount looking over the field as if it were a chess board. Dib noted the confident way he sat on his horse, surveying the battlefield with a set of stern but understanding eyes. Tak, having more experience with military leaders recognized immediately the poise and air of a dignified and intelligent commander. His very presence commanded respect. Buford was an exceptional general, but he seemed more of an old soldier. This man had the look of a solar system's worth of power and strategy, all held within the paper thin walls of a human body.

"I suppose you youngsters are coming with me then." General Reynolds said indifferently. "Lieutenant Carter."

"Yes sir." A well dressed officer saluted, riding alongside the general.

"Please help these two onto a spare horse, and lash it to your own." He said. "You two can ride, can't you?"

"We can sit on a horse while it moves." Dib answered. Reynolds gave a small smile and nodded.

"That's well enough for now." He said. The young lieutenant dismounted, and after finding, borrowing, stealing or otherwise 'requisitioning' a horse, he began to help Tak onto the animal's back.

"I can do it on my own." Tak said curtly, pushing the officer's arms away. She put a foot in the stirrup, and leapt into the saddle. Dib on the other hand, after struggling on the stirrup, had to be helped up by Lieutenant Carter.

"How did…" Dib began. The blue haired girl just shrugged her shoulders.

" I've been watching all the soldiers do it. I figured since this seems to be the only way people get around in this age, I'd might as well master it."

"Wow…" Dib said. "You know you're…well…"

"What?" Tak asked impatiently.

"Well, you're pretty…amazing." Dib said, glad he was seated behind Tak so that she couldn't see his cheeks grow a little red.

"Oh…" Tak replied. She smiled. "Um…thanks, I guess."

"Gentlemen!" Reynolds called to his staff. "To McPherson's Woods. We have desperate work to do. Forward!" He wheeled his horse around and trotted away at a quick pace. The staff followed suit, with Dib and Tak in tow.

"Where do you think they're taking us?" Tak said quietly to Dib. "This McPherson's Woods, what is that?"

"Huh?" Dib replied. "I don't really know." Tak raised an eyebrow.

"This _is _the history of your country." Tak said dryly. "So what happens next?"

"I don't _know_, okay?" Dib answered. "I'm not exactly a history buff, and the only thing I learned about Gettysburg in school is that, like a lot of people died, and there was some big charge, and it changed the war or something."

"Wow." Tak said. "Something as big as a civil war, and you people learn so little about it."

"So?" Dib asked, a little perturbed at an alien talking down to "his people".

"So, as an Irken, we're taught about all of the great wars of our past in great detail." Tak replied. "We think it's important to know about the battles that shapes a race or culture. War is what makes countries and people what they are. It doesn't really surprise me that an arrogant, material race like humans have all but forgotten their past and the people that shaped it."

"You think we're arrogant, but your race is out to conquer the universe." Dib said cynically.

"We at least acknowledge that we're a conquering race, and we remember the great Irkens who died to make us that way." Tak stated. "Which is more than I can say about humans."

"I…" Dib stammered. "We…" He didn't know how to react to that statement. It was true, but who would admit to it?

"What are you two whispering about?" The dark haired officer that led them queried harshly.

"We were just wondering where we're going." Tak answered.

"I do not believe I'm bound to answer you." He replied. "You two being prisoners and all. You'll be fortunate enough if you can prove you're not rebs."

"That's quite enough, Carter." Reynolds said calmly, coming alongside the lieutenant. He looked at the two. "Forgive my adjutant's manners. To answer your question, we're riding to McPherson's Woods, by the Chambersburg Pike."

"I don't know what that is." Dib confessed. "Man, I'm so confused."

"Well, obviously, you're no confederate spies." Reynolds jested. "Or at least poorly informed ones if so."

"We're not, and that's what we've been saying all morning." Dib said, pleading his and Tak's case. "We were just lost, and now we've been captured by this army, and talking to people everyone expects me to know, and going to places I've never even heard of. You know how twisted this all is?"

"Twisted…" Reynolds repeated, as if tasting the word. "Never heard of it put that way before, but I see your predicament." He smiled. "You youngsters just calm down, and we'll take you someplace safe…or rather safer than that damned mess John is trying to curtail."

"You mean Buford?" Tak asked.

"Yes. I do hope he's well. Buford and I are old friends, you see. " His gaze grew distant for a moment. "Many of us are."

"Soldiers?" Tak asked.

"Mmm." Reynolds answered. "There's many friends here. Old schoolmates, childhood friends, old war mates from down south. Many of us have good friends on the other side."

"That's…" Dib said, trying to find the words. "That stinks."

"Hmm." Reynolds answered, again amused by Dib's strange language. "That's what makes this war all the more terrible. All the more damnable to those of us who have to fight. Sometimes, we're fighting our brothers, or those that are like brothers to us." He nodded his head sadly.

"You know someone." Tak stated.

"Yes." Reynolds replied. "I have two friends, like brothers. War college, the Mexican war, we were close all these years. At the beginning of the war, Win and I went north, but My good friend Lo went south instead." He sighed. "Maybe after all of this fighting, after this war ends, we'll all see each other again." Neither Tak nor Dib knew what to say. To Tak, this Reynolds was so multifaceted, that it seemed impossible to understand him at all. He was obviously caring and thoughtful, but also very stern and calm. He was one of those rare individuals that seem to be everything at once. Tak fancied that with Reynolds, it _would_ be entirely possible to be a great commander and a good friend at the same time, to be a tactical, even rock-solid disciplinarian and to simultaneously be amiable and compassionate. If anything, in the short time she'd known General Reynolds, she respected him.


	6. Chapter 6: The Horrors of War

Chapter 6: The Horrors of War

_Well readers, Christmas time is over, and I hope you all a good one. I got swords, socks, salt and pepper shakers, and best of all, two wheels for my cannon. Now I can command my own gun at the reenactments…and shoot golf balls 300 yards. Anyway, I thought I'd stop arsing around, and write a new chapter, so here it is, submitted for your approval. _

From his seat on the 'mule', as General Heath had called the animal, which was a comfortable bit smaller than one of the confederate horses, Zim watched the commanders conduct the battle from the rear of the action. He looked on as they sat atop their horses, sending orders with this lieutenant, dispatches with that sergeant, receiving messages from soldiers of different rank, on horseback and on foot. Zim had no doubts why these men were generals. He could hardy keep up with the coming and going of orders and news, and these two inferior humans seemed to go at it as calmly and easily as playing a war-game simulator at the Irken Academy. He admired these two commanders, despite the fact that they were humans.

"What say you, Zim?" General Heath asked, wheeling his horse around slowly. "It appears that despite the confusion, we may yet take the field today.

"That's great, Heath-General." Zim commented. "How bad are we defeating the Yankee stinks?" General Hill raised his eyebrow and shook his head with a slight smile on his bearded face.

"Well son, it's a hard fight, and they're putting up one Hell of a resistance," Heath replied. "…but I think if we keep pushing them, we'll take the town."

"General Heath," General Hill said. "Let's ride up to the top of this hill, and see to the battle." He looked at Zim. "You may accompany us if you wish." Zim looked to Gir, who was tied to a tree, and busy licking himself.

"Yes, I'd love to see the battle." Zim said. "We'll destroy those Yankees, and I want to be there to see…it."

"We've got to get this young man a uniform." General Hill said to Heath with a chuckle. "Or give him a commission." Heath smiled, and the three, followed by a cadre of mounted officers, Hill and Heath's retinue, lead their mounts up a rise.

Below was an expanse of flatter land, with a dirt road leading past a large building off in the distance, with a few houses dotting the landscape. Past the large building, perhaps a couple miles from the spot where the men (and alien, respectively) watched, was a small town. It was not the mere picturesque panorama of a small farming town that caught Zim's eye though. It was the Hell that raged on the fields below him.

Even Zim cringed as he beheld the dozens of dead soldiers laying in sometimes impossible positions. Horses lay in bloody pools, often with their former masters nearby. The roar of battle was near deafening as cannon, muskets and pistols fired, and men screamed in anger, defiance and pain. Shells blew holes in the earth, sending men, sometimes four at a time into the air. Zim turned as a young officer, his uniform dusty, and face covered in blood, rode up on a brown horse. A shallow gash, probably a near miss from a musket, ran along its right rear hip, and blood streamed down the animal's leg, just as it did from the cut on the mans forehead. Somehow, both beast and man were still alive.

"Sir," The officer said, sounding out of breath, and saluting with a shaking hand. "We're pushing the Federals back, but they're beginning to get reinforcements…there." He motioned toward a wooded hill in the distance. "The black hats…the Iron Brigade, I believe. What are the orders, sir?"

"Tell Archer to keep pushing toward that ridge. You understand, lieutenant?" Heath replied. "By God, we got to push them off that ridge, and get the high ground."

"Yes sir, the high ground, understood sir." The officer said, saluted, then rode back down the hill.

Zim had never seen anything like this before. It was nothing like the battles he'd seen. It was no surgical strike, no vaporization of an enemy. This was…slaughter. It was loud, gruesome, bloody. It was violent. Zim began to shake a little, and he didn't understand why. General Hill noticed Zim's expression.

"It's something, isn't it, son?" Hill said unemotionally.

"Yes…" Zim replied in a detached tone. He tried to speak, but all that came out was "Why?"

"Because we have to." Hill answered. "And there's really no other reason." He looked out over the battle. "You still want to be part of it? You still want to be here, and watch all of this?" Zim thought about it for a few seconds.

"Zim is no coward." He whispered. He looked at the commander. "I must see the Confederacy win."

"Then I suppose you're here for the same reason we all are." Heath commented. "When all this is over, maybe we can all go home, and not have to see this anymore."

"I'd like to go home." Zim whispered as he watched the men fall on the fields below.

_A short chapter, I know, but it's meant to be merely the observations of Zim, and to present a more two-sided view of how intense the fighting was. I want to give the story of both sides, and show the humanity of the Civil War, not just the facts. Oh, and I KNOW that A.P. Hill was actually in Cashtown sick on the first day, but I needed him up front for the last couple scenes, so lay off. Please send me your reviews, or I'll send Jeb Stuart's cavalry corps to your house to eat all of your ramen! Until next chapter, cheerio._


	7. Chapter 7: The Death of a Friend

Chapter 7: The Death of a Friend

On the top of Mcpherson's Ridge, Reynolds arrived with Dib and Tak behind. A large body of men in blue uniforms was moving into what Tak recognized as a battle formation. They all wore large black hats, with one side of the brim turned up and fixed in place with a brass eagle. A high ranking officer wearing a similar hat rode up to Reynolds, who reigned his horse to a stop.

"General Meredith." Reynolds said in his cordial tone. "We have to hold this hill. We cannot allow the enemy to gain possession of the hills."

"General Reynolds sir," Meredith said with a salute, "The Iron Brigade is ready for a fight."

"And you will soon have it. "Reynolds replied. "Continue forming a line of battle here, and extend it to meet the 2nd Brigade."

"Yes sir." General Meredith said, and turned his horse.

"Are we really gonna try to hold this hill?" Dib asked. "Wouldn't the town be more important?"

"If they take these heights," Reynolds explained, "they'll have the high ground, and there's no way we could drive them off. If we can keep them down there, we have a better chance of defeating them."

"Oh…" Dib said. He didn't really understand the first thing about military tactics, but if a general had said it, it must make sense.

"Now you two find someplace safe to be." Reynolds ordered. "I don't want you two getting hurt." They were helped off of the horse as Reynolds trotted off to talk to another officer.

"Dib, you have to tell me who won this battle." Tak asserted. "Are we on the winning side?"

"Uh…I think so." Dib answered, trying to remember U.S. history. "I _think_ the south lost at Gettysburg, and we're on the northern side..."

"Jeez, Dib!" Tak said, grabbing his collar. "THINK! Is there anything else we need to know that might help us _survive_ this battle?"

"Umm…" Dib thought. "Yeah, the union won, the other guys lost…uh…this became a national memorial afterwards, and…uh…we should stay away from someone named Pickett."

"Pickett?" Tak asked curiously.

"Yeah, something about him leading a charge, and everyone in it died or something."

"Oh. Well let's hope that this Pickett is who is leading the guys that are coming across that field for this hill then, huh?" Tak asked, releasing Dib.

"Yeah…WHAT?" Dib exclaimed. He looked out over the flat land below as a veritable ocean of men moved toward the heights where he now stood. Dib's knees felt weak.

"Ready, Iron Brigade!" Reynolds yelled, galloping back across the line with his sword held high. Tak watched the general as he called out to the men. "Remember Antietam! You are the Iron Brigade! Show them your mettle, men! The enemy drew nearer, advancing up the slope. Dib and Tak could hear the roll of gunfire nearby. The enemy were so close now, that Dib could see the buttons on the gray and brown uniforms. The air was heavy as lead, and quiet as death. Then at once, they stopped in a line. Shouts were heard from the ranks, and the enemy raised their long rifles. Dib yelped and dove to the ground. There was a deafening peal, like a long boom of thunder. Several of the men in the union line fell to the gunfire. Tak flinched, but stood rigid as bullets whizzed past her, hitting trees and rocks.

"FIRE!" Reynolds yelled.

"Fire!" The officers shouted. The men in blue stood, and returned a volley of fire. The first rank of the enemy was thinned by the effectiveness of the volley. They quickly filled the gaps, and prepared to fire again. They raised their rifles, and another volley tore through Reynolds' men as they loaded their muskets. A round struck the ground inches from Dib's head.

"Ready!" Reynolds called. "Fire!" The men fired again, with the same effect as before. "Fire at will!"

"Fire at will, boys, fire at will!" The line officers called. The men began loading and discharging their weapons as quickly as they could. Tak stood as rigidly as before, watching the battle in morbid fascination.

"Get them. Get them." She muttered lowly, silently cheering the Union soldiers on in the carnage.

The tide of the rebel soldiers that had been advancing up the slop of the hill where Dib and Tak stood began to retreat back in the face of heavy fire from what Reynolds called "The Iron Brigade". As with Buford, Reynolds seemed indifferent to the enemy rounds flying about him. He still sat atop his horse, giving orders to a number of officers. Tak watched the battle with wide eyes, as if drawn into its hypnotic fury. Dib now watched from behind a large oak tree.

"Young lady, please find a safer spot." Reynolds beseeched to Tak, riding over.

"I'm fine, general." She said. "You shouldn't be on a horse though, it's too dangerous."

"The men need a leader up front." Reynolds said. "You shouldn't concern yourself with me. I'm just an old soldier. You on the other hand…do please try to find a safer spot, we're about to move forward, and I think it's going to be terrible." With that, he spurred his horse to the front of the line. "Men, forward!" He called. "Iron Brigade! Move forward and meet them, men!" He rode about 50 feet down the slope from Dib and Tak, where a group of soldiers were still firing from a kneeling position. He turned in the saddle and raised his sword.

"2nd Wisconsin!" He called. He pitched forward in the saddle and dropped his saber.

"General Reynolds!" Tak cried. The general fell from his horse as the men continued onward, forcing the enemy back. Several officers and soldiers ran up to where Reynolds lay. Tak ran to Reynolds, with Dib close behind. She knelt beside the fallen commander, and looked upon the general she had come to revere. A pool of blood was forming below his head, running from a wound behind his right ear. Lieutenant Carter knelt beside Reynolds, his face full of emotion. Tak looked at the officer.

"He's…dead." Carter said sadly to the group of mourners.

"No…" Tak whispered. She knelt beside Reynolds, and placed a hand on his chest. Dib crouched beside Tak and gently held her shoulder in consolation.

"I'm sorry, Tak." He said. Tak leaned forward, and pulled a white handkerchief from the fallen general's pocket. The thin cloth was embroidered with a gold J.F.R. She looked at Carter, who nodded in affirmation. Tak clutched the handkerchief in her hand.

"You were a fine commander." Tak said. "And a good man. I will remember you...and make sure they pay for what they did." She stood, and walked away, back to where they had been before.

"Tak?" Dib asked, approaching. She stood, leaning against a tree, looking out over the field. "What do we do now?" Tak inhaled and sighed.

"We kill them, Dib." She said solemnly. "We fight, and if this side wins, we will help it win." Dib looked at the ground.

"I…I don't want to die, Tak." He muttered. Tak looked at him hardheartedly.

"We might die anyway, you know." She said. "We'd might as well do something worthwhile before we do."

"I'll…" Dib began. He looked into Tak's eyes. If he were going to show her his worth, now was the time. "I'll go wherever you go, Tak." He said. She clenched Reynolds' handkerchief, and smiled tragically.

"Thank you." She said. She looked around. "We need to move, Dib." She took him by the sleeve, and they started into the woods.

_Well, what did you think of the first big death scene? I feel I could have done better, perhaps built up General Reynolds a bit more, but as it stands, I'm halfway through the first day of a three day battle, and this fic will probably end up being nearly 30 chapters if I keep it up, so I'm regrettably compelled to shave off a bit here and there as needed. As to the characters, well it looks as though they're drawn into the fray for their own personal reasons, eh? Much like the soldiers on both sides during the war. What will happen next? You'll just have to wait and see. So until next chapter, cheerio!_


	8. Chapter 8: Recruits and Deserters

Chapter 8: Recruits and Deserters

_Now that you all know that the Battle of Gettysburg wasn't just a single day of fighting, and I've narrated the events of the first day as accurately as possible, I feel I can end the first day as it actually happened in 1863 in one or two more chapters. The following events, though never mentioned in history books, and vaguely covered here, set in motion the proceedings of the next two days, and culminated in the infamous Pickett's Charge. Again, nearly all of the characters the Invader Zim cast will meet are real persons who fought (and in many cases died) at Gettysburg. Generals Heath, Hill, Reynolds, Buford, they all existed, and are portrayed here exactly as they were in life. Some minor characters, such as lieutenants, sergeants, and soldiers are fictional, but I've done as much as possible to make them as real to the time as possible. But as usual, I digress. Here is the next chapter. Please Review._

12:30pm

Dib and Tak hurried through the woods, as if late for some unknown destiny at a place unknown even to them. The sounds of battle still filled the air, as if some inescapable storm that surrounded them, threatening to engulf them in its fury at any moment. From the position of the sun in the sky, they surmised that it was nearly noon.

"Tak!" Dib called. "We've been wandering around for over an hour. Do you even know where we're going?" Tak stopped and looked around.

"Going?" She asked. "I don't even know where we are, Dib."

"You mean we're lost?" Dib said in a half-panicked voice. "We're lost in the middle of a battle? Oh man, this is bad..,"

"Dib!" Tak exclaimed. "Calm down, and shut up. We're going to find some Union unit, and fall in with them, then we're gonna crush those rebel soldiers like bugs."

"What if we don't run into the Union guys?" Dib asked. "What if we run into the enemy? What if we get captured?"

"I'm not without skills, you know?" Tak replied. They walked on a few yards further. Tak stopped and stared at something ahead. Dib hurried up and looked. He felt sick.

Ahead in the woods were two union soldiers. One looked to be in his early twenties. The other couldn't have been older than eighteen. The older one was laying face up on the forest floor, with one pant leg soaked in blood, and a bloody hole in his right shoulder. The younger was a few feet away, leaning up against a tree. The young man had a large gash in his forehead, and the left side of his face was covered in dark blood. His left hand still clutched a musket, and his right was nowhere to be seen. The dirt covering their uniforms, and the hole nearby told the story of these two men and the exploded artillery shell that had been their undoing. Tak stepped toward the two men.

"Tak…" Dib called in a hoarse whisper. "What are you doing?" Tak ignored him, and moved to the first corpse. She removed his black leather belt, upon which was a large leather box, and a smaller leather pouch, as well as a bayonet in a sheath, and a small wood-handled hunting knife. Looking around, she spied his blue wool cap, and picked it up. Moving on in her ghoulish task, she removed the second man's belt and accoutrements, including a canteen.

"Dib. Come here." She said in a cold, commanding tone." Dib obeyed, trying not to look upon the faces of the slain soldiers. Tak handed him one of the belts, and the cap. "Put these on."

"I…Tak, it…" Dib stammered.

"Do it." Tak said. Dib put on the cap, and buckled the belt around himself. Tak put on the other belt, and looking around, found the other soul's hat, and placed it on her head. She picked up the dead man's rifle, looking it over.

"How do you…" She began. "Never mind, I'll figure it out." She grabbed the white canvas bag the man had slung over his shoulder, and opened it. Inside were several pieces of what looked like thick crackers, a fork with three prongs, a few dollars and coins, and a tin cup. She hung the bag over her shoulder. "Come on, let's go." She said. Dib looked at the dead men a few moments. Tak turned to see tears in the boy's brown eyes. He sniffled. Tak's eyes lowered a second, and she walked to the boy. He looked her in the eyes, and she read the grief and fear in his face.

"Tak…" He said in a pleading tone. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Tak, despite her military training and life of stoical indifference seemed to understand. She placed her hands gently on Dib's shoulders. He fell into her, wrapping his arms around her, and sobbing into her shoulder. She held him as he wept. "It's okay, Dib." She whispered.

"I've…I've never seen someone die." Dib sobbed. "I've never…it's horrible, Tak!" She gently stroked his back.

"I know." She said comfortingly.

"And Reynolds…and these two guys…the soldiers…I…"

"It's okay." Tak repeated. "There was nothing you could do. Nothing anyone could do, you know? War happens all the time, and people die. It's never good. It's never pleasant. But it happens, and most of the time, it has to happen. These men, they didn't die for no reason, Dib. They died because they wanted to fight for something they believed in." Dib sniffed, and nodded. "I'm here, okay? I won't let anything happen to you, Dib. We're going to get through this, and we're going to get back to our own time. I promise."

Dib felt a little better, and pulled away from Tak. He looked at her, and she gave him a small smile that made him feel a little warmer inside.

"How do you do it?" Dib asked.

"Do what?" Tak asked.

"You, Reynolds, Buford. There were bullets flying everywhere, and you just stood there like it was nothing." He looked at the ground. "I wish I were as brave as you, Tak. As people like Reynolds."

"You've gotten this far, haven't you?" Tak said. She took Dib by the hand, and they walked off through the trees.

2:10pm

Zim was nearly beside himself with joy. It was just into the afternoon, and at first (from what Zim could piece together), the Yankees had gained reinforcements, and the Confederate army had stalled. Then, just a few minutes ago, a confederate general with a wooden leg named Ewell had arrived with what looked like an army itself, and began an attack on the flank of the Yankee position. Now, three commanders busied themselves with conducting what was turning into an all out war, while wagons and men hurried back and forth.

"We're beginning to push back the federal right flank." Ewell said to Hill. "If we keep up this push forward, we'll have possession of that hill, and be looking down on the town and the fields below." Zim suddenly heard the familiar staccato of approaching horses on the road. He looked back to see the white bearded general Lee approaching with a large group of officers. He rode into the midst of the three generals, who saluted him. He returned the gesture.

"Gentlemen," General Lee said in a calm voice. "how fares the army on this day?"

"Sir, the federals are loosing ground on their right flank." Ewell replied. "My one division present seems to be pushing them off that hill yonder." He continued, pointing toward the same hill that seemed to draw the attention and fire of every confederate division so far. "And I'm expecting the rest of my force to be here soon."

"My division was beaten back earlier." Heath admitted. "But we're preparing to make another try at it. They're vulnerable now, and I think if I hit them again, they will break."

"Very well, Mr. Heath." Lee answered. "Do attack, sir." Heath nodded to a captain, who rode off toward the battlefield, no doubt to convey the order.

"I'm still waiting on General Early." Ewell said. There was something about Ewell that Zim really didn't approve of. He seemed to have all the makings of a good commander, even a great one, despite his strange wooden appendage that gave him a peculiar gait. It was if there was something small, some infinitesimal smidgen of insubordination or sluggishness just under the surface. In features, he was a middle-aged man of average height, with a beard that seemed common within the ranks. His uniform was average, meaning it wasn't as haphazard and relaxed as General Hill's, but the grey officer's clothing was unadorned, save for the collar insignia and the gold piping on his sleeve.

"And how do _you_ do, young sir?" General Lee asked Zim. Zim was a bit surprised that the old General even bothered to speak to him amid the war-council he was holding.

"Eh, oh I'm good, General Lee." Zim replied. "Very good…" Now was his chance to get in good with the upper strata. "…I just wish I could do something more than just sit here and…observe."

"I see…" Lee said.

"I would be honored to become part of this army, and help it defeat those…_yankees_." He emphasized the last word as if he talking about a disease that needed an immediate cure. "Can I be a general?" He asked. Heath chuckled, and Hill shook his head again.

"How old are you?" Lee asked.

"Umm…" Zim thought. "Fourteen?"

"Too young for me to allow you to fight." Lee said, as if thinking. "And far too young for a commission, I'm afraid. But if you wish, you may ride with me, and relay urgent messages if needed."

"Is this an…important position?" Zim asked, ignorant of any Earthen military structure.

"Oh, I'd say so." Lee answered, giving a smile toward the three generals, who returned the grin. " You will help me direct the other officers, and be at my side as I ride. And if need be, you will act as my guard." Zim grinned at his newly appointed position, which to him seemed only a rank or two below leader of the world.

"Zim would be most pleased to have this position in the army." Zim said eagerly. He saluted. "Sir." Lee returned the salute, then turned back to the generals. Zim climbed down from the mule, and grabbed Gir before remounting his noble steed. Meanwhile, the generals continued their talk.

"Has there been any sign of General Stuart?" General Lee asked.

"No sir." The three replied. Lee looked disappointed for a moment. "Well if you hear from him…carry on, gentlemen, I have the utmost faith in your abilities as commanders." He tuned his horse and started down the road. Zim saluted the three generals, who saluted back. He tried to get the mule to move, but it refused to budge until one of Lee's staff grabbed the halter and began to lead it along with him.

2:30pm

Dib and Tak leaned against a large, thick-trunked tree together, resting. She gave Dib the canteen, and he drank thirstily. She dug around in the bag, and brought out two of the pieces of hard bread, willing to try one herself.

"Want one?" She asked, handing one in Dib's direction. He took it and examined it momentarily. He took a bite, or rather tried to.

"Jeez, what is this stuff?" He asked. "It's hard as steel and tastes like bread dough." Tak nibbled on her piece a little.

"I don't know what it is," She replied, looking at the strange cracker, "but it's not bothering me at all. It must have virtually no water in it." Dib looked at the flat biscuit mournfully.

"I don't think it has anything in it." He grumbled. There was the sound of a twig snapping. Tak leapt to her feet and grabbed the long musket. She aimed into the foliage, and looked around. Dib pulled the bayonet from the sheath on his belt, and held it close, his hands began to quake.

"Stay calm, Dib." Tak whispered. "And stay behind me. This gun only has one shot." They looked off into the woods, nervously awaiting an unknown foe. From behind them came the sound of several rifles cocking. Tak sighed, and lowered her rifle. Dib dropped the long bayonet. The sound of men rushing toward them from behind was heard, and the two turned to meet their captors.

Six men in blue uniforms stopped a few feet from Dib and Tak. Most of them looked youngish, the oldest being two men with beards, who had stripes on their jackets. A man, looking no older than 20 stepped forward. He had gold-bordered rectangular patches on the shoulders of his coat, and carried a cocked revolver in his hand.

"Who are you, and to what regiment do you belong?" He asked pretentiously, as if all regiments were below him in competence and reputation.

"Um…" Tak began. She knew they had to come up with something, and quick. She saluted the officer. "We're from the Iron Brigade, sir!" A couple of the men shifted, and looked about listlessly.

"Ah, is that a fact?" The young officer stated. "The Iron Brigade. Under Meredith?"

"Sir." Tak said. "General Meredith, yes sir."

"Well, perhaps then, you can explain to me why you two are nearly a mile away from your brigade's position?"

"Um…" Dib said, trying to think up something.

"You're all the way back on Cemetery Hill. Get lost, eh?" The officer said, cocking his head. "Or perhaps you kids are deserters from the Army of the Potomac. Either way, you're coming with me."

"We just want to get back into the battle." Tak said. "We just don't know where the battle is…sir."

"Well…I'll take you back to Headquarters, and see what they have to say, and from there, if you're not deserters, we'll see about getting you back into the battle."

"That will be fine." Tak said, trying to keep the situation under control. At least they weren't enemy spies anymore, but she was certain of at least one thing: she was growing to hate the junior officers. They all seemed to be pompous and cocky. Tak picked up her rifle, and the group began their trek.

_Now Dib and Tak are captured by their own side, and Zim is General Robert E. Lee's aide-de-camp. What will happen next? Read your history books, and you may get a vague idea. Until next chapter, cheerio. _


	9. Chapter 9: Soldiers

Chapter 9: Soldiers

Zim sat in the comfortable room of the house where General Lee had left him. For a primitive wooden house, the structure was furnished rather nicely. There was a small writing desk and chair, a folding cot with a trunk at the foot, two folding chairs, in one of which sat Zim, and a few candelabra and lanterns completed the décor of the battlefield mansion. A sentry stood outside the front door with a rifle, making Zim feel even better about the importance of his rank.

"My apologies for taking so long, young man." Lee said, entering the house with two other men. One was a younger man with a brown moustache, who looked as if soldiering was his religion. The other was a tall, dark haired man with a long beard and somber, brooding eyes. Lee motioned to the younger man. "This is Major Taylor of my staff, and this is General Longstreet, one of my finest generals." Longstreet held out his hand, and Zim took it in a greeting shake. "Now we have much important work to do, many preparations to make for tomorrow. Before we do, I have instructed Major Taylor to round up a few items for you." At this, Taylor stepped forward, and presented Zim with a grey wool jacket, a black leather belt with a brass buckle that had "CS" stamped on it, and a grey wool cap with a leather visor.

"Your uniform." Taylor said, as if presenting a box of gold. Zim took it, and as the men talked, the Irken put on the jacket, which came to his hips, and fastened the belt around the coat. He carefully placed the cap on his head and adjusted it to his perfection.

"Then it is settled, gentlemen." Lee said, clasping his hands together. "Here, we will fight."

"Sir," Longstreet began. Zim turned to listen to the conversation. "you know my quality. I do not believe that we should fight here."

"Do go on, general." Lee replied, the statement sounding more like a question. At that moment, General Hill and another commander, a thin, dark haired man with a long moustache entered the room.

"It's just that…" Longstreet continued, "I am afraid that perhaps this isn't the best ground for a battle."

"I understand that, General." Lee said. "But we have encountered the enemy here, and we have been drawn into battle here. We must then fight here, sir. The rest is in God's hands."

"Yes sir." Longstreet replied, and Zim thought he saw the tall general's eyes drop for a moment.

"General Hill, sir…" Lee said to the new commander. "I understand the Federal army is retreating, and we must keep them from gaining the high ground. Please send word to General Ewell at all possible speed. Tell him he must take that hill if practicable." The two commanders left the tent, leaving Zim again with Lee, Longstreet, and Major Taylor.

"Zim is ready to serve the Confederate States of America." Zim Said, saluting.

"Do you pledge your heart and courage to the army, Zim?" Lee asked. "All I ask of any of my men is a dedication to our cause that goes beyond the dedication to themselves."

"I do." Zim replied.

"Then you are now a soldier in the Army of Northern Virginia." Lee said. "And a soldier in my staff."

"Thank you. And let me say that I am greatly honored, and I'll do my best to…" He noticed Lee's somewhat impatient look. He cut his acceptance speech short and came to attention with a snap salute. "Sir!"

………………………….

After a long walk with their captors, Dib and Tak came to a large farm house just as the sky began to darken. The sound of distant gunfire still resounded. The group of Union soldiers led the two past groups of officers and squads of men in the yard of the building, and up to the porch.

"Detail!" The young officer said in a commanding voice. "Halt. Stand at ease. I will take the prisoners from here." The men stopped, and began talking amongst themselves as if glad for the break. The officer, ushering Dib and Tak in front of him, entered the house, and took Tak's rifle, propping it against the wall. Inside, several commanders and their staff officers sat in chairs, or stood in the large room just to the left of the entrance. They turned as the three entered. Dib felt nervous with so many eyes on him, and cringed into his coat's upturned collar.

"Lieutenant…" One of the men said curiously, eyeing the officer and his two wards. "What brings you here?"

"I have these two prisoners." He replied. "I believe them to be deserters, major." He stood confidently, as if expecting an immediate promotion to general for capturing two kids.

"Prisoners?" Asked the major disdainfully. "We've captured over 1,000 rebel prisoners today, and you…capture…two children from our own side?" The lieutenant's face showed his humiliation, and Tak gave a devious smile.

"Major," The lieutenant said, trying to save face. "They were far behind the lines, I believe they deserted their regiment." The major, a portly, bearded man looked as though his annoyance matched his girth. He looked at Dib and Tak and sighed.

"Very well, son." He said. "Leave them here, and we'll make sure these dangerous fugitives don't escape." The rest of the officers gave chuckles, and one older man by a map guffawed loudly. "We'll see what General Meade says when he arrives." The now speechless young officer stood for a moment, as if confused about what he should do next. "You're dismissed, lieutenant."

"Yessir." The man said awkwardly. He glowered at the two time travelers.

"Bye." Tak said pleasantly. The lieutenant scoffed, and left angrily.

"Now are you children really deserters?" The major asked.

"Well, um…not exactly." Dib replied, trying to think of how to explain their situation.

"Not at all." Tak said.

"Well, what regiment are you with?" Asked an officer from across the room.

"We're with the…Iron Brigade." Dib replied, repeating the name Tak had used earlier.

"I see…" Said the major, narrowing his eyes. "Infantry, eh?"

"Yes sir." Tak replied. The major looked back at the other men in the room for a moment before turning back.

"Though your hat brass says you're from Cutler's brigade?" The major asked. Dib felt like he was on trial. Tak started to say something, but the major continued. "And yours, young lady…though we don't allow young ladies in our army, says that you are a musician, yet you were the one with the musket. This is very curious." Tak sighed, knowing her ruse was defeated. "You're not soldiers." The major stated. "Then the question is…who are you, and why are you wearing Union kepis and gear, and traipsing around on a battlefield?"

"We're not soldiers, major." Tak admitted. "But we want to help the Union defeat the rebels."

"Well, you'll have to take that matter up with General Meade when he arrives." The major said. "Meanwhile, you two sit about and…well, I don't suppose it matters much as long as you don't go away."

"Okay." Dib said. "As much as I've walked today, I don't think I could walk another step." He found a corner that seemed relatively cozy for a corner, and slumped down, falling asleep. Tak requisitioned a book on military regulations, and sat, leaned against the wall near a lantern, studying the text. She let Dib sleep. For now, they could rest, and the boy looked like he needed it. Tak knew that soon, they would be back into the fray. Fortunately the next few hours were marked only by far off barely audible gunshots, the officers entering and leaving the house, and messengers bringing both written and spoken messages. The night grew dark around the house, and outside the windowpanes it looked as though a black void had encompassed the house. Only in space had Tak ever seen such a dark night before.

"So dark out there, it's a bloody mess. Can't see a damned thing." A man said entering the house, sharing Tak's sentiments as he spoke to a companion. As he entered the room, the occupants turned and saluted.

"General Hancock, sir." The major said respectfully. The man who had spoken stopped and came to a regulation salute.

"As you were." General Hancock said. "General Meade has yet to arrive yet, I see."

"No sir." The major replied. Tak walked to where Dib lay sleeping, and shook him.

"Dib." She whispered. "Dib, wake up."

"I didn't eat the last of the cereal, Gaz." Dib muttered. He opened his eyes and looked around.

"Dib, get up, I think someone important just came in." Dib yawned, and climbed to his feet. Hancock looked toward the two. Tak saluted and nudged Dib, who managed a shaky salute. Hancock looked back at the major.

"It appears that General Lee is moving in force into this area. When General Meade arrives…" He was cut off by someone entering the house, and the slow, determined step of heavy boots. Dib and Tak looked in relief as General Buford entered the room.

"Ah, hello, John." Hancock said warmly. "You did well today. Very well."

"Thank you, General." Buford said in his typical broody voice. "My brigades are pretty bad off. My troopers are low on ammunition, and I don't think they have much fight left in 'em." Hancock thought on this a moment.

"Well, I'll see about getting you reprovisioned, and sent to the rear. I don't think anyone can ask more of you than you've already done."

"Thank you." Buford said. The two men looked at the floor for a moment.

"You were there…" Hancock finally said. "When Reynolds died?"

"Yeah." Buford replied. "I saw him." There was another short silence.

"I'll make sure he gets to his family here." Hancock said. "He will be missed, old John Reynolds." Tak gripped the handkerchief in remembrance of the general. It seemed everyone respected him. He _was_ a great commander.

"He will that." Buford replied. He saluted.

"You take care of yourself." Hancock said, saluting. Buford turned, and saw Dib and Tak.

"And thank god you two are okay." Buford said.

"I'm glad _you're_ okay." Dib replied. "We were hoping that you'd make it through the battle."

"We were with General Reynolds, sir." Tak said. "It was…"

"I know." Buford said meditatively.

"You know these two, sir?" The major asked. Buford glanced back at him.

"I'd reckon, major." He said. "I picked them up outside of town as I came in. Figured on 'em bein' spies, but they aren't spies. They're just a couple lost kids."

"I see, sir." The major said.

"I sent them with Reynolds to get them outta the way of the fight. I guess that couldn't be helped."

"No sir." Was the major's reply. Buford looked back at the two and gave a small smile.

"You two take care of yourselves." He said.

"You too, general." Dib said. Tak just nodded. Buford left the house, probably returning to his men. Hancock now studied the two young prisoners a few moments.

"They were brought here under suspicion of desertion, sir." The major said. "They claimed they put on the kepis and gear because they wanted to join our army. I was waiting on General Meade to arrive, sir."

"I'm certain we have much more important things to look to at the moment." Hancock said, lighting a cigar. He looked at Dib and Tak again, as if trying to make up his mind. "I'll tell you what," He said "You two would like to be of assistance to the army?"

"Yes sir." Tak replied. "We want to help beat the rebels into oblivion."

"I see." Hancock said, amused.

"Like I said, sir…" Tak continued. "we were with General Reynolds." Hancock blinked and looked down for a second. "I just want a chance…to do justice on them."

"I understand." Hancock said. "Though we're not supposed to take people as young as you two, or women into our ranks, I suppose a Corps commander has a certain flexibility in such times." Tak smiled. "You can stay on with the army…for this battle, you understand?" The two shook their heads in affirmation. "You will have the ranks of private, and I'll place you with one of the regiments under my command."

"Yes sir." Tak said.

"I'll see about keeping you out of as much fighting as possible. You'll serve as…messengers, scouts, orderlies, those sort of duties."

"We understand." Tak said.

"Major?" Hancock stated. "Please see to obtaining these two young soldiers some uniforms."

"Yes sir." The major replied with a salute.

"I'll see about placing you with the 20th Maine when they arrive." Hancock added. "They're somewhat undermanned, and could use a couple more soldiers."

"As you wish, general sir." Tak said with a salute. Dib looked at Tak, and saluted the general.

…………..

8:30pm

Zim sat in the room with General Lee. For a leader, and such a respected and venerated one, Lee was a mystery to Zim. Lee never seemed to get angry, or yell. He never barked out orders. He didn't seem to be a violent man. If fact, He seemed to be full of thought, to constantly be meditating on something. His orders were softly spoken, but had a stony, commanding quality that the men obeyed without question. He was nothing like the tallest, but for a human, he was not only a great commander, but a rare sort of one. As Zim sat, perplexing over his new commander, an old bearded general entered the room. Lee turned to the man and saluted.

"General Trimble." Lee said, a curious, inquiring tone to his voice. The man, General Trimble saluted. Zim could see that he looked frustrated. "I understand you had some problems with General Ewell earlier?"

"Sir…" Trimble said, as if unsure how to continue. "The man…it…It was an outrage. The man should be stripped of command…sir." He panted.

"Yes, general?" Lee said, urging him to continue.

"That hill. It stood with but little forces on it. I could've taken it with half a regiment…" He began to get flustered. "I asked him to allow me to take it. He said nothing!"

"I see." Lee said.

"I told him that we had to take the high ground, that if we took the damned heights, there would be no fight tomorrow. You know what he did?"

"No sir." Lee replied softly.

"He refused!" Trimble cried. "Now, the Federals have the high ground, because that damned fool Ewell…"

"General Trimble," Lee said calmly. "You are an excellent general, and I understand your indignation. I will speak to Ewell of this personally." Trimble blinked, and took a couple breaths. His anger seemingly faded away.

"Yes sir." He said. "Thank you, general." He saluted. Lee gave a strong salute, and Trimble exited.

"General Lee, sir…" Zim said. "I would be furious at Ewell for not capturing such important enemy positions."

"Yes, Zim." Lee said, sitting in a chair, the old man relaxing. "But we cannot change what is already done. Mistakes are made, and they are unpreventable. But we can change what tomorrow holds. We can learn from yesterday. You understand this, Zim?" Zim thought for a moment. It did seem to make sense to the Irken.

"Yes." He replied, still in thought.

"It would not help to get angry. We have fought well today, and tomorrow is a new day. It's all in God's hands." Zim nodded and looked out the window at the gathering darkness, and the campfire nearby where General Longstreet sat with several generals who had just arrived.

……………………

12:10am

"Gentlemen," A commanding voice stated. A tall, imposing commander walked into the house that had already seen so many officers within its walls that evening. Hancock and the other officers saluted. The salute returned, the newcomer walked to the table where a map of the area lay unfurled. "Do you all believe this to be good ground?"

"The best I've seen in a while, General." Hancock replied.

"Are we ready for a fight, General Hancock?" The man asked. Tak studied the tall, older man. This must be General Meade. She was somewhat glad Hancock had seen to them. Meade looked less lenient than the soft spoken Hancock.

"My divisions will be here in the morning, sir." Hancock replied. "And the 1st and 11th Corps are beaten back, but they still have a lot of fight left." Meade nodded in approval as Hancock pointed at the map. "Tomorrow, we'll see my 2nd Corp, and hopefully the 6th Corps arrive, and we can continue to reinforce our positions on the heights outside of town.

"Very good." Meade commented. "You all agree on this?"

"Yes sir." Several of the men in the room replied.

"Then tomorrow, we will have the high ground, and we will fight."

_When I began this fic, I never imagined it would become so epic in scope. I now realize that this has become no mere fanfic, and has evolved as I've written it, into what it is becoming. I must say that I'm rather impressed that I am capable of writing such an epic work, and regardless of its deficit of readers and reviews, I'm almost driven to complete it. Those of you who have reviewed, thank you, thank you, a thousand times over. Those who haven't, please let me know what you think. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon, as it begins day two of the battle. Until then, my loyal readers, cheerio._


	10. Chapter 10: The Second Day Begins

Chapter 9: The Second Day Begins

7:00am

A trumpeting of bugles and the roll of drums caused Dib to leap to his feet from the place on the floor where he lay sleeping.

"Wha…what the…oh man, what's going on…" He cried in confusion.

"It's assembly." Tak said stoically. Dib looked at her questioningly. "You know, the army's way of saying "Get up and get ready? So get up and get ready."

"Do I have to?" Dib whined.

"We're soldiers now, so yes…yes you do. Though I'm used to more…advanced forms of warfare, I have to say it feels good to be back into soldiering again."

"Well, I still think it's a bad idea." Dib muttered. General Hancock entered the house. He spoke to the officers for a moment, speaking low and gravely, pointing again at the map on the table. The men nodded and left the house. Hancock turned, and noticed Dib and Tak.

"Ah, you two." He said in his friendly tone. "I hope you weathered the night in good fashion."

"Yes sir." Tak said, saluting. "We're awaiting your orders, general. Where do you need us?"

"Well, there's nothing going on this morning, but the Rebs are still out there."

"So there's going to be more fighting today?" Dib asked. He could hardly believe that any army could still fight after the fierce battle the day before.

"I believe so." Hancock replied. "And soon, I think." He sighed. "You two come with me for now. I'm preparing to see General Caldwell."

"Yes sir." Tak said. Dib managed a salute.

Meanwhile, Zim was also preparing for another day of fighting. After only about three hours of sleep, General Lee had awakened. In fact, he had been up and talking to officers and orderlies, planning, writing, and all other responsibilities of command since 3:30. Zim's respect of Lee was renewed. He had never seen a human so involved in their duty. Now that the sun had risen, Lee had ordered the tall, bearded General Longstreet to gain intelligence on the enemy's strength on the hills. Zim could feel the threat of battle looming in the air, as if all the men, rifles and cannon were stretched taut and ready to snap at any minute.

Nearby at a table made from a door laying across a fence, Lee and Longstreet stood talking, a map on the makeshift bench. Also nearby was a tall, skinny human in an odd brown suit and tall black hat. He had been introduced earlier to Zim as Colonel Freemantle, but was not a Confederate officer. He was from a country called Britain, and was observing the army Zim was now part of. Zim didn't know quite how to take the man with the funny accent, which was a bit like Tak's. He was always praising the army, and the generals, and going on and on about how the south had to win, they were so genius and so professional. Then he'd blather on about things Zim didn't understand at all like English squares, a guy named Napoleon, and Light Brigades. Zim sat on a fallen fencepost, and listened to the conversation between Longstreet and Lee. Longstreet was motioning toward the enemy position, barely a mile across a great open field from their own.

"They're well entrenched up there," Longstreet said, "All the way across this ridge here. The one with the cemetery. Their line extends then south, to those two hills. As of yet, the federals have no men or batteries on those hills."

"Yes, general," Lee replied. "And it is those hills we must seek to occupy. Occupy those heights, and drive the enemy from that ridge by commanding higher elevation."

"Yes sir." Longstreet agreed." Zim walked closer, eager to aid in or at least be present for the planning of the Confederacy's glorious victory.

"Very well." Lee said. "Your generals Hood and McLaws arrived last night, and are well rested, correct?"

"Yes sir." Longstreet replied in his low and somewhat broody way.

"Well, sir…Hood and MacLaws should move around to the south, then push forward, and take those hills as soon as possible." Longstreet looked a little apprehensive.

"Sir," He began, "I think we should try to move around those hills, and possibly strike the enemy on the flank and from the rear."

"No sir." Lee countered calmly. "We are unsure of the terrain, and of enemy positions beyond those hills. Without General Stuart's cavalry, we have no idea what may lie beyond. No sir, you must take those hills directly. Now, at the time of your attack, several brigades will also attack the enemy right." Longstreet sighed. "Yes, general?"

"Well, sir…" Longstreet said, pausing as if unsure how to continue. "You know I've always been a cautious commander. If we take those hills, it will be under heavy fire."

"Not entirely." Lee argued. "There about halfway across the field, you will be out of sight of their guns, and be able to advance unmolested. Between artillery support, and an advance on both ends of the Federal position, they will undoubtedly become spread out and confused. Now general, when you are ready, please commence the attack with all speed." Longstreet's eyes fell. He looked back at his commander.

"Yes sir." Longstreet said.

"Oh, general?" Lee added. Longstreet cocked his head upward. "I would rather you not ride forward with the advance. This army has lost too many of its best commanders, men who are irreplaceable…"

"Sir?"

"You are too valuable to this army and to me. You must stay behind the assault." Longstreet sighed and nodded in affirmation. He placed his large white hat on his head, and walked toward his horse, which was being held by Major Sorrel. Another officer, a man Longstreet called T.J. was already mounted on his beast.

"Mr. Zim?" Lee's soft but firm voice said. Zim turned to the general. "Would you please accompany General Longstreet and his staff? Please make sure, young man, that he understands that he is to remain behind the action?"

"Yes sir, General Lee, sir!" Zim saluted. Finally, a mission. Something to do to impress General Lee. Zim thought for a moment. Why did he feel he had to impress Lee? He had never cared what any human thought. He wanted humans to fear him, to bow down to him, but now, he found himself hoping to gain praise from one. Lee had a strange quality. Everyone around him treated him with a fatherly respect that Zim felt infecting him. No sense in worrying about that now. He had a mission.

"Zim needs a horse-beast, general, sir." Zim said. Lee seemed amused as always at Zim's way of speaking.

"There's a pony tied to a tree over there." Lee answered, gesturing toward a house. "I had it saddled for you to use. It's well trained, and should be the right size for you." Zim saluted and walked to where the small horse was. He untied it from the tree, and nervously stepped into the stirrup, expecting the animal to try to eat him or something. It didn't. He threw himself into the saddle, and pulled lightly on the reins, testing the strange art of horse-riding. The horse moved the way he wanted. SUCCESS! He thought for a moment, and carefully shook the reins.

"Go on, horse." Zim said. The horse began to walk. Zim was amazed with himself. This wasn't so bad, he thought. The rode in the direction of Longstreet and his staff. Finally catching up, he found Freemantle among them, talking away to Major Sorrel. Zim rode up alongside Longstreet, who looked down at him.

"General Longstreet, sir." Zim hailed. "General Lee has sent me with you."

"Well…" Longstreet replied with a slight smile, chewing on a cigar. "Happy to have you, son. Glad you learned how to ride finally." They approached a man sitting atop a large black horse. The man was dressed in a fine uniform, and looked more like a great commander than most of the generals Zim had yet seen. "Son, I must have a few words with General Hood. You can stay here and keep Major Sorrel and Colonel Freemantle company." Zim nodded, and pulled back on the reins gently, bringing the horse to a stop. The small group came alongside, but Zim sat looking at the General that Longstreet had called Hood. He was a man who looked strong, both mentally and physically. As with quite a few of the men Zim had come to know already, he by now liked this man too.

"Marvelous, isn't it?" A voice commented. Zim looked up to see Freemantle above him on a white horse. He was smiling proudly. "I say, that General Hood is a remarkable chap I hear."

"Really?" Zim asked.

"My yes. His command is of a group of men from Texas and Alabama, or as I have been told. Rugged sort. Pioneers, bandits, cowboys, Indian fighters, and what. Wonderful general, or so they say. I do believe this battle will be won here today, what of you?"

"This army is going to defeat those Yankees and the Confederacy is going to be independent." Zim said, clenching a fist.

"Oh, you think so too? Marvelous." Zim looked back at the two generals talking. He could see some sort of debate between them. Longstreet was shaking his head gently, and looking down. General Hood looked exasperated, and pointed down past the two hills in the distance.

"Where are you from, young sir?" Freemantle asked.

"Eh? Oh…far away." Zim replied. "Yes, I'm from a place far away from here."

"Ah, indeed? As am I, as you have heard. Well what brings you to this army, if I may ask." Zim was rather annoyed at the man, but didn't want to outright insult him in front of the confederate officers. He gave the simplest explanation he could think of.

"I came here in the middle of this war." Zim said. "I didn't plan on it, like it was a horrible accident. I didn't even know anything about it at first, but I had to pick a side. This army is fighting for their freedom, and their homes. Now Zim is a confederate soldier. They're going to win, and Zim will help them win. Then…maybe I will go home." He sighed. "I will help the Confederate victory, then I will go home…I hope." He suddenly felt a pang of sadness. He missed his old life, and wondered if he would ever go home again.

"Hmm…" Freemantle said. "Very brave…" He said it meditatively. "Indeed, young sir, quite noble. Your perspective is quite…ah what is the word…sobering."

"Yes…" Zim replied, wheeling his horse around. Longstreet rode back.

"Well…" He said pensively. "We'll link up with Pender and…well, we have a long ride, so let's not drag our feet about it." He began to ride forward. He seemed depressed, or burdened. The group turned, and rode after him at a fast trot.


	11. Chapter 11: Damn Sickles

Chapter 10: Damn Sickles

_Now, you may be wondering why I titled a chapter 'Damn Sickles'. No, it's not because I hate cutting grass with a scythe, silly. It's because I really don't like General Sickles. I don't know why. Read on, and tell me if it's just me, or is he an ass. And I made a slight clerical error in chaptering the previous two chapters as chapter 9…oh well, it's of little consequence, I guess. Well, read on and review if you please._

Dib and Tak walked alongside General Hancock as he rode at a slow pace along the low ridge. Men and cannons lined the small stone wall, but the cannons were unmanned, and the soldiers were resting, eating and talking in small groups. Across a field of maybe a mile, they could see men on horseback, cannon, and flags. Dib was in awe. They were so close. How could two armies that want to destroy each other utterly be so close. So close and looming, and yet Hancock and the soldiers were acting calm and orderly, some men even playing cards and others were laughing. Up ahead was a cemetery, the white stones bright in the morning sun.

"Lads," Hancock said, breaking Dib out of his reverie. "General Meade approaches." Meade rode up on a brown horse, a no-nonsense look on his face. Hancock saluted, and Dib and Tak did the same. Meade saluted back.

"General Hancock," Meade said politely. "How is your corps?"

"Very well, General." Hancock replied. "Is there anything you need, sir?" Meade thought for a moment.

"Have you seen General Sickles this morning?" Meade asked.

"I'm afraid I haven't, sir." Hancock said.

"He has informed me that he is unsure of where to place his men."

"Well sir, has he not been placed by you, sir?" Hancock asked. From Hancock's face, Tak could see that he was slightly annoyed. "I was under the impression…"

"I told him to position the Third Corps to the left of your line." Meade explained. "He sent a lad up a few minutes ago, asking me to come look over the terrain, that he thought it prudent to move forward of the entire army. I refuse to acquiesce to any more of his addlebrained theories." Hancock smiled.

"At least he's not the commander of this army, sir." He said. Meade smiled back, then looked over Hancock's shoulder.

"Here he comes." Meade grumbled.

"Then I shall take my leave general." Hancock said saluting. Meade saluted back.

"Oh, general. May I have a loan of one of your orderlies? Mine are all off, and I need a messenger for a while." Hancock looked at Dib and Tak.

"It may be a bit unorthodox, sir," Hancock began, "But this young lady simply will not stay out of battle, it seems, so I have made her and her companion here my messengers. Would you like the young lady, sir? I was going to send the lad to Colonel Vincent's brigade this morning." Meade looked at Tak a moment.

"I suppose that would be fine. Thank you, Hancock." Hancock nodded. Tak looked up at him.

"Go with General Meade for a bit, private. Don't worry, I'll see that you two are back together before this evening."

"Yes sir." Tak stated, saluting.

"Tak…" Dib said. Tak turned to him. He had a look of concern on his face. Tak could almost perceive something else, underlying the worry. "Just…be careful, okay?"

"I'll see you later…" Tak replied, staring into his eyes. "Don't worry about me, Dib. I can take care of myself. Just…don't get blown up or something." Hancock smiled. General Sickles came to a stop beside the group.

"General Meade!" He said, almost angry. He saluted. "A word please, sir. In private, sir." Hancock turned his horse, and started off, leaving Tak with Meade. Dib couldn't take his eyes off of Tak as he walked beside Hancock. He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her how he felt, and cursed himself for not being able to.

"Come now, Private Dib…" Hancock said. "Let us find Colonel Vincent." Dib looked back one last time at Tak, and closed his eyes.

"Please," Dib whispered. "Just let her make it through okay."

"Sir…" General Sickles said to Meade. "You must come at once and look to the terrain in front of my position." Tak had only known Sickles a minute, and already she didn't really like him. He was an average built man with a large brown moustache. He wasn't that hideous physically, but he had a cocky air that Tak could sense in his body language. The way he spoke to General Meade bordered on disrespect.

"Why do you find the ground in front of you so important, general?" Meade asked.

"Sir, the position you ordered me to hold is a weak position. It's undefendable. Ahead of me is a high spot. I should move my Corps to that spot. I could hold it against the devil if I had to."

"Oh," Said General Meade nonchalantly. "Generals are always apt to look for the attack to be made where they are." Tak thought this was a most excellent insult to Sickles. Sickles on the other hand blushed, and clenched his jaw.

"General Meade," He said in a defiant tone that made Meade squint angrily at him. "May I use my own judgment in the placing of my own men?"

"Oh, certainly." Meade replied. Tak wondered for a moment if Meade had finally relented to Sickles' stubbornness, until he said "…within the limits of the general instructions I have given you. Any ground within those limits you choose to occupy, I leave to you." Sickles grunted. "Is there anything else, general?"

"No…sir." Sickles replied. He looked at Meade a moment, as if contemplating whether or not to salute. Finally he did, and tuned his horse, galloping off.

"General Meade, sir." Tak said. "Is General Sickles always so…"

"Sickles is like a good hunting dog." Meade said. "Good to have for the hunt, but you have to keep him on a leash, lest he run off, chasing the rabbit until eternity." He looked around. "Young lady, if you will accompany me, I must see to the army."

_A rather short chapter, I admit. I could have well put Dib and Tak's parting into the next chapter and omitted most of this one, but I wanted to introduce Major General Daniel Sickles, one of the most famous generals at Gettysburg you've never heard of. Sickles actually influenced the battle in unsung ways, especially the fighting on day 2. He's still an ass in my opinion…The next chapter will be longer, and have Dib meeting the famous Union hero of Day 2, a college professor from Maine who commanded a regiment that day and became immortalized. Anyone know who I'm talking about? Leave a review with your answer, and the first person to correctly name him gets an honorable mention in the beginning of the next chapter. So until then, loyal readers…cheerio. _


	12. Chapter 12: Colonel Chamberlain

Chapter 12: Colonel Chamberlain

_Congrats to ngrey651, a reader who knows their Civil War history! Ngrey was the first reviewer to guess that this chapter introduces Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, commander of the 20th Maine Regiment of Volunteers._ _Uldaren Bardaniel gets an honorable mention too, not just for knowing that it was Chamberlain I alluded to, but for the great knowledge of Chamberlain he showed in his review._ _ So read on, and please give me your reviews. I'm enjoying the opportunity to show the readers of this humble fic what the Civil War was really like, and in doing so, perhaps honor the men who fought in the war between the states. _

Dib walked alongside General Hancock down the line of Union troops marching in formation toward the ridge where they had left Tak. The men in the ranks looked tired, as if they had been marching for days. Dib felt a small bit of relief seeing all the soldiers coming toward town. At the side of the column rode a man on a white horse. He held his head high in a regal manner, and as he reached General Hancock, he saluted smartly with his riding crop.

"General Hancock, sir." He said proudly. "Good morning sir. Where shall I position my brigade?" Hancock saluted the man.

"Colonel Vincent. I'm glad to see you and your men finally. I would like your brigade to be my left flank."

"Yes sir. I will position my regiments accordingly." Vincent said nobly.

"This is private Dib, my personal messenger. I will send him with you. Place him in the regiment at the left flank of your line. He is to keep me informed in case of any problems on the flank." He said the latter while looking at Dib. Dib nodded to the general.

"Very well, sir." Vincent replied.

"Get into position as soon as possible." Hancock said. "It is believed that the enemy will try an attack on our left."

"Understood sir." Vincent said, saluting.

"Dib, you understand your orders?" Hancock asked. "You're on the far left. It's important that you keep me informed in case of any important developments there."

"Yes sir." Dib replied. Hancock looked at him expectantly. "Oh." Dib said. He saluted. "Sir." Hancock saluted him back.

"You'll make a fine soldier yet." He said with a smile. "Now off with you. Go with Colonel Vincent. He will place you where needed. Do be careful, son."

"I will, general sir." Dib replied. Careful was an understatement. He would do anything in his power to stay as far away from danger as he could. Colonel Vincent signaled an officer, who rode up, and held out his hand. Dib took the man's hand, and soon he was riding away, along the long line of troops. Before he knew it, a bugler was trumpeting, and ahead of him, Colonel Vincent was talking to an officer walking a horse at the front of a column of soldiers. As the officer that bore him drew closer, Dib could hear their conversation.

"Follow me, Colonel Chamberlain, I will place your regiment." Vincent said to the officer. "And we must be quick. I believe there will be a fight today."

"Understood, sir." The man Chamberlain replied.

"Today, we shall show the world how college professors soldier." Vincent said with a smile.

"College professors?" Dib asked the officer on whose horse he sat. "I thought they were colonels." The officer chuckled.

"Colonel Vincent is a professor from Harvard." He told Dib. "And Colonel Chamberlain there is a professor from Maine."

"Wow." Dib said. He could hardly imagine teachers fighting in a war. His dad was a professor, but Dib couldn't picture him fighting anyone, let alone leading troops. Miss Bitters was so scary she could probably _frighten_ an army into surrender. He looked at the two men. College professors leading an army…

"Then follow me." Vincent said. He and his staff, including Dib took the lead of the long line of Union soldiers, and started along the ridge. Dib looked for Tak as they passed the spot where they had parted earlier, but she and General Meade were nowhere to be seen. He rode along the ridge until the path took them up a hill. Dib could no longer see the field, for trees stood thick on either side of the road now, and the path grew steeper. It seemed as if they were moving to the top of a small mountain.

After a few minutes, the group stopped, and the column of troops halted behind them. Vincent climbed down off of his horse and walked further up the path with Chamberlain. The officer helped Dib down, and he followed the colonels along the trail. They stopped where the trail ended in the woods. Below, the forested hill sloped downward. Dib tried to make out any recognizable features, but he could only see about 100 feet down through the thick foliage.

"Colonel," Vincent said to Chamberlain. "Here I place your regiment. The 83rd is to your right, but you are to be the far left of my line. I am the far left of Hancock's line, and Hancock is the left flank of the Union army."

"I understand." Chamberlain said, gazing out into the trees.

"You are the end of the Union line, and if attacked, you must not allow the enemy to take this position. If they do, we could all be flanked. You must hold."

"Yes sir." Chamberlain said calmly. "Hold this position."

"Very well." Vincent said in a self-confident tone. "And I leave you with this boy, General Hancock's messenger. He is ordered to report from this position any important information." Chamberlain looked at Dib and nodded. "Hopefully, you'll live to see my lectures and I yours." With that, Vincent saluted and left the scene. Chamberlain looked over the area studiously for a few moments.

"Captain Spear!" The colonel called. A bearded man approached. "Set the colors over there by that boulder. Dress the line from the 83rd to that point, and get the boys to dig in, and stack the rocks to create some protection."

"Yes sir!" Captain Spear saluted. He turned and hurried off. Men soon began to form up in a line at the slope. Chamberlain turned to Dib.

"And you…um…what is your name?" He asked.

"Dib…uh…Private Dib."

"Okay, Dib. You stay with me, okay? If I need to send you to General Hancock or Colonel Vincent, I need you close, understand?"

"Okay, sir." Dib said. Chamberlain sighed. He took off his cap and wiped his brow. He was a younger man, about 30, with a full sandy colored handlebar moustache and wavy hair of the same color. He had the look and air of an educated man, but not of an army officer.

"Colonel Chamberlain?" Dib asked.

"Yes Dib?" Chamberlain replied as if in a hurry. He kept looking down the slope as if expecting an attack at any moment.

"A man back there said you were a professor…" Chamberlain nodded and looked back into the trees.

"I am. I teach religion and philosophy at Bowdoin College in Maine." The colonel replied.

"Then why are you fighting in this war?" Dib asked. "I mean…if I can ask, sir?" Chamberlain pursed his lips and thought for a moment.

"Well. You see, this…this is a war unlike any the world has ever seen. We're fighting not to conquer, and not to destroy, but to unify, and to save. To save a country, to save a race. You understand?" Dib thought about this. He nodded. "I'm here because I believe in justice. In peace. And it is because of that. Because we are fighting to restore peace, to end slavery, to save a nation…we have to win."

"This is a war to bring peace …" Dib muttered to himself. He looked at Chamberlain. "It's a war…like for morality…a war for harmony..." Chamberlain nodded thoughtfully.

"A war of ideas." He said.

"Wow." Dib whispered.

"No man should be another man's property. No man should be thought of higher or lower than another but by his deeds." Chamberlain said in thought. The meditations of the two were cut short by the return of Captain Spear.

"Sir, the men are positioned, and I believe you were right. There's talk that the Rebs may be coming this way."

"How is our ammunition?" Chamberlain asked.

"We're good Colonel." Spear replied. "You really think they'll hit us here?"

"We're the flank. It's very probable that if they attack, it will be right here on this spot." Spear looked around and nodded. Another man, younger than Spear came up. He had thick brown sideburns that formed into a moustache. Dib wondered if everyone in this century had outlandish facial hair, or if it was just this army.

"Lawrence…Colonel, sir." He said, saluting. "The right flank is against the 83rd. We're set with plenty of ammo."

"Good." Chamberlain replied. "Now Tom, when the firing starts, you keep your distance from me. It would be a hard day for mother." The man nodded. The two officers ran back to their positions.

"He's…your brother?" Dib asked.

"Yes." Chamberlain replied. "At least we're in the same regiment. We can watch out for one another." Dib suddenly felt something stir in him. This was no ordinary army, and this was no ordinary war. There were so many friends and loved ones. On both sides. And they were all fighting for ideas. And he was part of it now, like it or not. He felt a monumental weight of duty to do something.

"I wish we had more men." Chamberlain said lowly. Dib could tell that Chamberlain didn't want anyone else but the two of them to hear it. "We're below half strength now…" Dib looked down the hill. The dark maw of the woods now looked very menacing. He felt a terrifying isolation, a sense of looming danger. He looked back to the colonel, the intelligent, dashing, idealist in an officer's coat. Dib now understood the gravity of the situation, and the resolve of men like Chamberlain.

"I want a gun, sir." Dib said, almost forcing the words out.

"You?" Chamberlain asked.

"Yeah. Like you said colonel, you need more men and…I just don't want to stand around and…stuff. I want a gun too." Chamberlain shook his head in affirmation and exhaled.

"Just wait then, Dib." He said. "You'll have one before this day is done." Dib was beginning to question whether that was good or bad, when far off to the right, the sound of gunfire tore through the woods.

"They're coming in at an angle!" Chamberlain barked. Officers clustered around Colonel Chamberlain. "Wait until they pass by the 83rd, then fire in volley."

"Yes sir!" The officers called, running back to their positions, shouting out orders. Dib felt cold, scared. He clenched his teeth, and tried to swallow his fear. The Rebs were coming, and so was the battle.

_Can you feel the battle coming? The second day at Gettysburg really gets less renown than the first, but as you will see, the second day of bloody combat was important in its own right. And it made a hero of a professor from Maine. How? Read on and see. Well, until next chapter, please send your reviews and your comments. _


	13. Chapter 13: Sickles' Disobedience

Chapter 13: Sickles' Disobedience

_I'm back with a new chapter, and I'm sure you've been waiting with baited breath to see what is going to happen. Well, I won't keep you, so read and review please. _

While Dib marched toward the hill with Vincent's Brigade, Tak stood beside General Meade while he dictated long, boring orders to several lieutenants, captains, and sergeants. Instead of orders of combat, they all pertained to supplies, wagons, horses for some major's artillery, and other small details of battle. She sighed in her boredom and looked around for something interesting to see while she waited for her own orders. A small group of soldiers were playing cards on a flat rock. A sergeant by one of the large cannons was really reaming a private.

"You ignorant scabhead, hows we 'sposed to swab the damned barrel if you left the wetsponge on the caisson?!" He shouted. Tak watched. This could get interesting. "Go get it, an' get some common sense whiles you're at it!" The private walked away sulking. Tak wondered where Dib was now. She found herself hoping that he was okay, and wondered why. He was so concerned for her safety earlier…why? And why was she thinking about Dib so much? She smiled.

'I guess I'm kind of starting to care for the human…' She thought to herself. She shrugged. Hancock was coming.

"General Meade, sir." Hancock said, sounding out of breath. "I believe you should come at once and see to this…" Meade looked back at the officers, then to Hancock and nodded. He called for his horse, and climbed on, helping Tak on behind him. Hancock, Meade, and Hancock's staff rode quickly out to a point on the ridge. Below on the field, about ¼ mile off, a portion of the Union army was moving away from the hill toward a hilly patch of trees a short distance away. Tak watched as they moved in perfect formation toward the grove.

"Look at that." Hancock said, staring at the sight.

"Damned Sickles…" Meade said low but angrily.

"Look boys," Hancock said to his staff. "Like they're on parade. What a beautiful sight. Now watch, they'll be falling back in disorder in a few minutes." It struck Tak what was happening.

"Sickles is moving his men anyway?" She asked in disbelief. "After you ordered him, sir? It's…it's disrespect, it's insubordination…"

"It's Dan Sickles." Hancock said with a sigh.

"Remember when he shot his wife's lover dead?" One of Hancock's staff said to another. Meade nodded to Hancock and rode off with Tak.

"Young Lady, we should find Sickles before he makes a serious mistake. He could jeopardize the entire army." He rode down the rise toward the slight hill as Sickles' men entered the trees. There were a few faint musket shots from the orchard as they galloped toward it. They passed a group of a couple dozen of Sickles' men heading for the trees. Meade didn't stop as the officer called out to him. Almost to the hill, they heard a sudden roar of gunfire.

"Damn." Meade growled. "That's more than skirmishers." He gripped his reins tightly, and Tak held onto the general's sword belt as the wind blew through her hair. Another roll of gunfire sounded, along with the thud of two cannons. They rode up the hill into the trees. The smoke of battle was already beginning to form.

"General Sickles!" Meade called out to an officer. "I must speak to Sickles at once!"

"He's a little further up that way, sir!" The man called back, saluting. Meade spurred his horse on.

"Where can I find General Sickles?!" He called, approaching a group on men. Sickles rode out of the smoke on his horse.

"I am here, General sir." He said, saluting Meade as if nothing were wrong.

"General Sickles, you moved your Corps without my orders. You disobeyed me, general." Meade said furiously. Sickles looked around as men fired and units moved from place to place. Cannon shells were beginning to explode in the tops of the trees and on the ground.

"Would you prefer that I move to a position on the ridge, sir?" Sickles asked.

"Damn." Meade said. "I'd prefer it, but those people won't let you!" He shouted, pointing toward the enemy fire. Just then a shell exploded in a tree near the two commanders. General Meade's horse reared up, and Tak found herself falling. She grunted as she hit the ground. With a groan, she opened her eyes and turned her head in time to see Meade fighting for control of his horse as it madly charged away from the battle.

"Are you hurt?" Sickles called from his horse. Tak sat up.

"No." She said angrily, giving Sickles an incensed look.

"Good." He replied nonchalantly. "What is a girl doing on the battlefield anyhow?"

"_I'm_ General Hancock's messenger, and I _was_ acting under General Meade's orders." She said, angry at the comment about a 'girl on the battlefield."

"Well messenger." Sickles said, ignoring another close explosion. "I suppose that means that you're under my command until you get back to General Meade then. And you should work on your salute." Tak growled under her breath. He was right and she knew it. He was the ranking officer on the field, and she was a private. She gave him a salute.

"That's better. Now come. This is good ground, and we must hold it." Tak's feelings for Sickles had changed. Now she _really_ hated him.


	14. Chapter 14: The Confederate Attack

Chapter 14: The Confederate Attack

_As the battle for the second day begins, we now turn to the Confederate side of the field, to General Longstreet's corps and to Zim. This chapter will be very "real" in terms of what Civil War combat was really like, so be prepared for that, readers. And to one of my readers, and anyone else now pondering Gen. Sickles' sanity and humanity: You must understand the mind of the man. Sickles was a politician, and a ruthless one at that before the war, using his position to finagle a general's commission. Secondly, he was a shameless self-promoter, and wanted the fame of "the man who won the battle/war" He despised West Pointers, and no doubt thought himself a more capable commander than Meade. As with all historical figures, he has his followers and his detractors. I for one am not a Sickles fan-boy. But I'm not here to give you a history lesson, I'm here to tell a historically accurate, semi-educational Invader Zim story. So read on and please keep reviewing! _

Zim sat on his pony beside General Longstreet. The attack had finally started. Zim watched as Hood's men marched into the narrow field for the small hill that Zim understood was the key to turning the entire Union flank. He grinned triumphantly as he watched the men, with the formidable General Hood riding along the rear of the entire formation, cheering the soldiers on with a drawn sword. Nearby, General McLaws' men were also on the field, moving toward the enmy. The thousands of men looked unbeatable, and the only person that showed doubt was Longstreet, who watched the attack with a tense, uneasy expression. Zim nudged his pony into walking to where Longstreet sat.

"What is wrong, General Longstreet?" Zim asked. Longstreet looked at him solemnly and nodded. Zim looked back toward the battle when he heard a long, loud peal of gunfire from the direction of the grove of trees.

"Tell General Hood to move up quickly. He may receive enfilade fire from that grove of trees." Longstreet said to an orderly.

"Yes sir." The officer said, riding off toward Hood's division.

"And I want artillery fire on those trees." Longstreet said. Another officer rode off. Muffled explosions sounded in the distance, and cannon shells began to burst amid Hood's men. Zim heard again the horrible sound of screaming that he had heard the day before. He knew it came from men from his own side. Wounded and dying men.

Hood's soldiers were beginning to reach the maze of boulders and rocks at the base of the hill. The field was becoming smoky now, making it hard to see what was going on.

"I say…" Colonel Freemantle remarked, trotting up on his horse. "At this rate, they'll have that hill in a matter of minutes. Oh, marvelous." Longstreet said nothing.

"Take it…take it…" Zim muttered, leaning forward in his saddle anxiously, straining to see through the white smoke.

"Sir!" An orderly called, riding up. "Hood reports that his division is taking heavy fire. Robertson is getting hit hard, sir. He's having trouble pressing forward."

"Damn." Longstreet grumbled. "Tell General Hood…" At that moment, a stray shell exploded near the orderly, sending horse and rider to the ground. Several staff soldiers ran to the messenger, who was badly wounded. Longstreet looked around frantically, finally setting his gaze on Zim.

"Zim!" He barked.

"Sir!" Zim saluted instinctively.

"There's no one left. You must ride out there and find General Hood. You remember General Hood?" Zim nodded once. "Find him. Tell him to hold onto the ground at that grove of trees. We will try to use our artillery to move the enemy off that rise, but he must hold the ground there."

"Yes sir. Zim understands his orders!"

"Good. Son go. Be careful, but for God's sake go quickly!"

"I will not let you down, my general!" Zim called. He galloped onto the field, and toward the fight. "Now is my chance." He mused to himself. "Now I can prove my worth to the Confederacy!" He was approaching a small stream, and just beyond, ranks of men moved forward toward the small rise and the cluster of boulders. Many were already fighting within the jumble of trees and rocks. Further ahead to the right, men were moving up the small mountain. A shell exploded off to Zim's right. He yelped, and pulled to the left, jumping the stream and galloping on.

"General Hood!" Zim yelled over the din of battle. "General Hood!" He rode through gaps in the ranks of men, most moving forward while some limped and crawled back toward the rear with blood on their uniforms. Another shell landed near him but didn't explode. Zim was becoming terrified. Was this really war? It wasn't great. It wasn't fun. It was awful.

Up ahead, General Hood, still atop his steed, rallied men on with his sword, yelling at the top of his lungs. To Zim he looked like a musical conductor, conducting a symphony of death and destruction with a sword as his baton.

"General Hood!" Zim screamed. Hood turned as he rode up. He looked down at Zim, as if surprised he had made it this far through the devastation unhurt. "Sir…General Longstreet…"

"Yes son…what?!" Hood demanded.

"General Longstreet said to hold onto the ground at this grove of trees. He said they will try to use the artillery to drive the enemy away. He says to hold this ground."

"I understand son, but my boys are gettin' shot to pieces! Tell Longstreet I'll try to hold, but I may have to move further right!" He turned to an officer. "We have to hold this ground! Bring up Anderson now. My orders to Anderson, come up now!"

"Yes sir!" The officer replied. He ran off, holding onto the sword on his belt.

"Damn it all!" Hood bellowed. He looked back to Zim. "You have to tell Longstreet I can't…" Just then, a shell exploded close to the two. Everything went black for a moment, and Zim came to on the ground with a ringing in his head. He painfully got to his knees. His horse lay beside him, not moving.

"My pony…" Zim said mournfully. He looked around. General Hood's horse was also down.

"General…Hood?" Zim called. He crawled over to the other side of the fallen mount. "Sir!" He called out. Hood was laying on the ground, writhing in pain, clutching his left arm. Zim noticed that Hood's sleeve was soaked in blood, and blood was running out of his cuff. Zim made his way to the General. "General Hood, sir. Are you…okay, what can I do?"

"I'm…afraid I'm…I'm badly hurt…" Hood groaned.

"Help!" Zim called. "Someone, General Hood's hurt!" Two men rushed over. "We have to get him medical help." Zim said urgently. One of the men grabbed Hood's collar, and the other took his right leg in hand. Zim, despite the throbbing in his head and the pain from his fall, grabbed Hood's left leg. They lifted the moaning, wounded man, and began carrying him away from the action. Zim felt a pain in his right arm and looked down. There was a small cut in his uniform coat, and he was bleeding a little.

"Musket ball…" The man on Hood's right leg grunted as they hefted the general on. "You're alright, reckon…it just skint 'ya." They found a depression in the ground, and lay Hood down. The man that had spoke to Zim ran off, calling for a medic. Soon he returned with two men, who began working on Hood.

"You can go now." One of the medical soldiers said to Zim. "We got a litter comin' you'd best get back to yer post boy." Zim looked once more at the wounded Hood. He was still groaning agonizingly. He looked away sadly, then saluted Hood respectfully, and began running back to Longstreet. Explosions still blasted around him, and the occasional bullet whizzed by, but Zim tried to block it out. He tried to block it all out as he ran. He just wanted to be back in the safety of the trees with General Longstreet. Far away from the death, from the noise. From the blood.

Soon, he found himself running into the tree-line. He looked around, and saw the men on horseback down the path, and ran toward them. The men all wheeled their horses around and watched, eyes wide, as he approached. He made it to Longstreet, and weakly saluted. He was unaware of the fact that tears were falling from his eyes, and blood was running down the arm of his jacket.

"S…sir…" He gasped, his lungs hurting almost as bad as his arm and his side. "General Hood is…he's hurt. Bad, I think. He said that…" Zim panted a moment and sniffled. "His boys are getting shot to pieces, but he will try to hold." Longstreet looked down at him with concern.

"Zim…are you injured, son?"

"No…I..don't know…" Zim replied. "It was horrible over there!" He cried.

"I know." Longstreet said gravely. Zim fell to the ground, and sat in the dust. He looked at his hands. Freemantle stared, his mouth agape.

"I…I helped carry General Hood…he was…it…they killed my horse…"

Longstreet waved a soldier over. The man took Zim by the shoulders and helped him up.

"He needs to be taken back to headquarters." Longstreet said. "See about his wound, and…make sure General Lee knows about the brave deeds he did today."

"Yes sir." The soldier replied. He helped Zim to a horse. They climbed on, and began riding back toward town.

_Now if that doesn't paint a fairly accurate portrait of "the Civil War in all its blood and guts in spades" as Longstreet phrased it, I don't know what does. It looks like Zim finally understands what combat is all about, eh? What will become of Longstreet's attack? What about Tak and Dib on the other side of the assault? The next chapters will tell. Until then, please keep reviewing! Cheerio._


	15. Chapter 15: Sickles Leaves the Field

Chapter 15: Sickles Leaves the Field

"Forward! Forward men, and onward!" Sickles yelled, waving his sword. The battle had gotten fierce, and it seemed to Tak that the entire Rebel army was concentrating on their position. Shells were exploding everywhere, and the sound of rifle fire was almost a constant roar as men loaded and fired. Sickles had since dismounted from his horse, and was now pacing like a madman, directing the battle.

"General Sickles!" Tak called as she walked behind him.

"What?" He asked curtly.

"Sir…" She almost had to vomit the word out. "It looks like our side is taking heavy losses. Maybe we should move back to a better position?"

"Look here, young lady…" Sickles began. "I'm not abandoning this position to the enemy, and if I want a private, and a girl at that to advise me in military strategy, I'll seek your counsel at once." Tak clenched her teeth in anger. Sickles was condescending, self righteous and arrogant, and Tak didn't like him at all. Maybe he _was_ a good general, he _was_ a corps commander after all, but that didn't change her opinion that he was a pompous ass to boot. Now, he was endangering not only his life, but hers as well.

"Sir, you're too exposed here. You should go to the rear." Tak said. Sickles gave her a puzzled look. "The army can't spare you, and this corps needs a leader." Sickles looked toward the enemy and grunted.

"You're right…" He growled. "Let us return to the rear." He said. He called for his horse and mounted. They began making their way away from the fighting, toward a small house in a clearing near the edge of the woods. "You watch…" He said to Tak. "I will rout the Rebels, and history will prove that I acted accordingly. To Hell with Meade's orders." An officer ran past with two dozen fresh troops behind. "Forward men, the fight is forward! Go to it!" He urged.

"Damnit Dib…" Tak whispered to herself. "Be okay…don't do anything…stupid."

"What?" Sickles asked, looking down from his horse.

"Nothing." Tak replied. "…sir."

Sickles grunted, and went back to yelling at officers and men, and brandishing his sword. Fiery death rained down from the Rebel cannons now fully concentrating on their position. A large group of soldiers came limping back to the rear with various injuries and wounds. Sickles took off his gold-trimmed blue kepi and slapped it against his thigh.

"Any of you men that can fight get to fighting!" He yelled. A few of the men gave groans of derision and kept walking to the rear. Another shell exploded in the trees nearby. An officer with two bars on the shoulder-boards of his coat ran by. "Captain!" Roared Sickles. "I want every damned man forward! All reserve forward! Get the God damned drummers up front with rifles!" The captain looked at the commander incredulously a moment, then saluted nervously.

"Yes…yes sir!" He said. He turned and ran off, hollering for a lieutenant and some sergeant.

"Damn, damn, damn." Sickles said angrily. "We'll hold this ground yet." He turned to Tak. "Young lady, you may be present at the last battle of this war!" At that moment, a shell exploded so close that Tak was thrown backwards a few feet. She hit the ground and for a moment, thought she was dead. Finally, she managed to gasp a breath. Her entire body hurt, and her head was throbbing from the concussion of the shell.

"Help…" Tak finally managed to gasp. She felt two strong hands grab her arms.

"Miss…miss, are you hurt terribly?" A gruff voice asked.

"I…don't think I am…" Tak replied. She opened her eyes. A large sergeant in a dirty blue uniform was holding her by the shoulders, looking at her with concern.

"Can you stand, miss?" The man asked. Tak nodded that she could. With the sergeant's help, she managed to get to her feet. She gently brushed the man's hands away, and shakily stood on her own. She brought a hand to her aching head.

"General Sickles…" Tak said softly. "Sergeant, where is…General Sickles?"

"The general is down, ma'am." The sergeant replied. "He's badly hurt. But this is no place for a young lady, let me help you…"

"No." Tak said. The sergeant was a kind man, and Tak smiled. "Thank you. I'm General Meade's messenger. I should be here, it's alright."

"Alright then, ma'am." The man said, nodding. "If you need anything, just holler for Sergeant Wood. I'm with the 86th New York." Tak nodded, and Sergeant Wood moved off into the bustle of men. She looked over to where she had been standing. Sickles' horse lay dead, blood pooling under the poor beast. There was a small crater in the ground, and on the other side was a cluster of men kneeling around a prostrate figure. Tak moved in closer, and pushed into the group.

Sickles was laying on his back, not moving, his left leg completely mangled from the knee down. Tak could see bone protruding from the tattered leg of his once light blue pants, now dark red from the blood that issued from the terrible wound. Tak fought the urge to smile. 'I guess it's true…' she thought to herself. 'everybody get's theirs in the end.' Her reflection was cut short by a sound worse than the battle.

"No, I'm not dead, damnit all." She heard Sickles groan. "Get me…to a hospital. Get a litter…for God's sake, get me a cigar." Four men hurried up with a stretcher. The large group hefted the general onto the canvas litter, and a soldier placed a cigar in Sickles' mouth and lit it with a match. Sickles, now feeling more like himself, despite his wound, took the cigar in his fingers, and began puffing it as his bearers hurried off, an angry look on his face. Tak shook her head. The man just wouldn't die. The battle raged on, and Tak decided it was time to get back to General Meade.

_Another short chapter, but I must skip abruptly from POV to POV to show the battle in its entirety. Next up is the defense of Little Round Top, and if you the readers know your history, you know what is coming. To those who don't, it will be as a surprise. So read on, and don't forget to send me a review. I'm going to try to finish this fic before the reenacting season starts in April, as my fiancée and I will probably be doing a great deal of campaigning (traveling from battle to battle, and living entirely in the age for you non-living historians).And, I will be moving into a new house which needs a lot of work, so that will occupy what's left of my time, so I may not be writing as much in the months to come. But alas, more digression from the pertinent situation…until next chapter, cheerio. _


	16. Chapter 16: Little Round Top

Chapter 16: Little Round Top

"Hold men…hold your fire…" The line officers of the 20th Maine ordered calmly. Dib stood beside Colonel Chamberlain. He kept looking to the colonel, who gazed toward the oncoming enemy, and back to the advancing force. Dib heard a loud shriek from the enemy, as if all the men in the ranks had suddenly let out a banshee scream at once. It was a yell of determination and fearlessness in face of the fire the Union was pouring onto them. It chilled Dib's blood. The advancing Rebels were now moving up the grade in front of the 20th.

"Fire!" Chamberlain bellowed.

"Fire!" The officers shouted. A roar, like a long peal of thunder sounded as every rifle in the line came to life to cause death. A cloud of smoke blocked out the view of the enemy for a minute, but the men kept loading and firing into the white wall of smoke.

"Pour it onto 'em men!" A shout sounded from down the hill. A volley of fire, this time from the enemy rang out, and many of Chamberlain's men fell where they were, many injured, some dead.

"Keep it hot, men!" Dib heard Captain Spear shout. The valiant men of the little Maine regiment now fired another volley. Through the smoke, Dib could see figures moving back down the hill. Shots rang out from both sides as the enemy retreated. Chamberlain's brother, the lieutenant came running up.

"Lawrence…Colonel, sir!" He exclaimed. "They tried to move around the left flank, but we pushed 'em back. We pushed 'em back good." Chamberlain Looked out through the mist.

"They'll be coming again, I think." He said solemnly. "Tom, I need all the officers here." Tom saluted. "Captain Spear!" The captain came jogging up and saluted. "I want the regiment to spread out a little. I want a company with some sharpshooters positioned on the far left, and I want the line lengthened, understood?"

"Yes sir!" Spear replied, and moved off. Chamberlain sighed. He looked down at Dib, who was trying to remain calm, despite the fact he was scared to death.

"Can you get this young man a rifle and some ammunition?" Chamberlain asked Tom. The younger Chamberlain nodded and ran off, returning with a long musket with a shiny barrel, and a belt with leather pouches on it.

"You know how to use this?" Tom asked. Dib shook his head.

"I'm sure I'll learn." Dib said. Tom looked down the hill.

"You may get your chance. Lawrence! Here they come again!" Dib looked down the hill. The enemy was advancing again. Dib suddenly felt panic again. "Powder, ball, ram it home, cap, and fire." Tom explained quickly. He nodded to the colonel, and ran back to his position. Dib fumbled in the large leather pouch for a round. He pulled out a round paper tube. Chamberlain stood next to him, checking his pistol.

"Powder is in the roll." Chamberlain said quickly. "Tear it open, pour in the powder. Drop in the ball, and force it down the barrel." Dib did as instructed, tearing open the paper tube, and pouring the black powder into the rifle's barrel. He placed the heavy grey bullet into the barrel, and removed the ramrod from under the barrel. The rebels were closer now, and the 20th had already begun firing. He shoved the ball down the barrel with the rammer, and extracted the rod. "Cock it once." Chamberlain said, his face showing a determined look as he watched the enemy approach. "Now place a cap there under the hammer. Dib pulled a small brass cap from the smaller pouch, and with trembling fingers, placed it on the nipple beneath the hammer. "Cock it, aim and fire." Chamberlain said, aiming his pistol. Dib cocked the rifle. The gunfire between both sides was massive now, and men from Chamberlain's regiment were falling all down the line. Dib took aim at the mass of men and fired. The recoil hurt a little, but Dib recovered, and began to reload.

The rebels were coming with a new resolve, and though Chamberlain's men fired as fast as they could, the enemy came closer and closer. It looked as though they may overrun the Maine soldiers, but at the last minute, they began to ebb back down the hill, firing as they went. Dib quickly reloaded his rifle, and Chamberlain worked to reload his pistol as Spear came through the smoke of battle. His face was streaked black with powder smoke and dirt.

"Sir," He said, panting for breath. "They almost overran us. We took heavy casualties, and the boys are low on ammunition. Sir, we have to move back."

"We cannot do so." Chamberlain said. "We are the flank. If we lose this ground, they can turn the entire flank of the army. We have to hold."

"What do we do?" Spear asked. Chamberlain sighed.

"Send a messenger to the 83rd. See if they can send us any ammunition and men. Tell them it's urgent."

"Yes sir." Spear saluted. Chamberlain began to walk along the line. Dib followed, watching the trees below anxiously.

"Colonel Chamberlain?" Dib asked in a low voice. The colonel perked his head as he walked. "Can we beat them again?"

"I don't know…" Chamberlain sighed. "I don't think we can hold against many more assaults like these." Dib felt a sense of doom pervade him. They were running out of men and bullets, and the enemy kept coming. They couldn't leave, but soon, they wouldn't be able to fight. Dib clutched the rifle tightly.

"They're coming!" A soldier shouted. The yell Dib heard before cut through the trees again. Chamberlain pointed his pistol. Tom came up and stood next to his brother, his pistol aimed at the approaching enemy. Dib knelt down in front of the two. It was as if they were defending their leader in a last stand against unbeatable odds. The firing began anew. Men began falling again, and again the white haze took over the battle. Dib fired, loaded and fired again at the horde of approaching men. He heard bullets whiz by him like angry bees. In all fairness, he imagined that his own rounds were buzzing past the head of some young enemy soldier. So this was war, two people who didn't even know each other, trying to shoot and kill one another over an argument, a difference in ideas… A bullet hitting the fabric of Dib's kepi brought him back to the battle from his thoughts. The rebel army was now upon the line of soldiers.

"Damn!" Chamberlain called out, falling to the ground. Dib quickly knelt beside the commander.

"Are you okay?" He asked. Chamberlain grunted.

"Ah…just grazed me…" He replied. He raised his revolver and shot a confederate soldier running toward them with his rifle raised high like a club. The man fell dead. Dib quickly reloaded his own rifle as men fell around them, Union and rebel alike. He fired into a group of enemy soldiers. Several fell, and he did not know whether or not it was one of his rounds that had killed one of them. Now the enemy was falling back once again. The hand to hand combat was over, and the surviving rebels were moving back down the hill.

"Did…did we win?" Dib stammered. Chamberlain was flushed red, and sweat beaded on his face.

"I do not know, but I think not." He said. A sergeant ran up.

"Sir…sir, the 83rd says to tell you they can give you no aid sir…they're hit hard as well, and cannot help. Colonel Vincent is down, wounded badly sir." Chamberlain sighed and shook his head. The messenger continued. "It gets worse sir. Hazlet's Battery was moved on top of the hill sir, but Hazlet was killed. So was general Weed, not a minute apart. It's all chaos sir."

"Thank you…" Chamberlain said unemotionally. The sergeant left as Chamberlain's officers approached.

"They're reforming again, sir." Captain Spear informed. "I think they'll come again soon…but the men, they're low on ammunition. Half of 'em are out, sir." Dib felt his heart sink. This was it. There was no way they could withstand another charge. "What do we do, sir?"

"We can't retreat…" Chamberlain spoke.

"But we can't shoot with no ammo." Dib added.

"And we're down to maybe a hundred men." Tom said sadly. Chamberlain looked down the hill and thought for a moment. Dib couldn't conceive of any way out of this predicament. It was a last stand, a suicide mission. What could anyone do in this situation?

"Okay, Captain Spear…" Chamberlain finally said. "You take command of the entire left wing. I'll command the right, and when they charge us again, we'll wheel the regiment downward, down the slope. We fix bayonets and charge them head on.

"A right wheel of the entire regiment, sir?" Spear asked in surprise.

"Yes." Chamberlain replied simply. "We swing down on them as they swing up. They won't be expecting a charge, and…well…we can't do much else, so ready the men. You all know your duty." The officers saluted.

"Yes sir." Came the unanimous answer.

"Go!" Ordered Chamberlain. The men rushed off and began to bring the remaining soldiers together in a perfect line. Dib looked down the hill. First a flag was visible, a red square with a blue X dotted with stars. Then the men, charging up the hill in their grey and brown uniforms, their rifles in hand.

"Here they come!" Dib called.

"Fix…BAYONETES!" Chamberlain screamed. The men all drew the long blades from their belts and locked them onto the ends of their rifles. Dib did the same. His legs felt like rubber. His heart pounded in the boy's chest, but he looked once more at Chamberlain. The colonel, standing tall, resolute, his sword in one hand, and pistol in the other, and it made Dib feel a little stronger. The enemy stormed closer and closer. Finally, they were within fifty feet.

"Charge!" Chamberlain yelled. He ran forward, mixing with the union soldiers that now charged toward the enemy. Dib joined the mass of men, flooding down the hillside now like a torrent of blue water. The rebels stopped, fired a volley, then turned and fled in fear. The 20th Maine charge forward after them, their rifles held like spears. Dib saw Chamberlain, waving his sword, firing into the enemy. His men were beginning to overtake the rebel soldiers, who threw down their weapons and surrendered. Others attempted to fight, and were shot or clubbed by the men from the 20th Maine. Soon after it had begun, the fight was over.

Colonel Chamberlain leaned against a tree as soldiers led groups of prisoners back toward Union lines. Dib watched in awe. Somehow, with one hundred men and no ammunition, Colonel Chamberlain had won the battle!

_Well lads, that was the battle for Little Round Top. What did you think? Comments? Questions? Please send both in large quantities. _


	17. Chapter 17: March of the Fallen

Chapter 17: The March of the Fallen

Tak knew she had to make it back to the ridge and fast. The fighting was seemingly at its climax, with more Union troops moving forward to aid Sickles' men in their desperate fighting. A commander wearing a black bandanna around his head had led his men through the grove of trees into the wheat field nearby. A few minutes later, the commander had walked back into the trees, his pistol drawn, obviously looking for assistance, when a single stray bullet had ended his life. The wheat field, Tak heard from the wounded and retreating men, was devastated, a testament to ferocity of the battle there. The wheat was mowed down to the ground by the sheer fire from both sides. The grove offered little protection too, as Confederate artillery continued to fire into the clump of woods.

Tak dodged an exploding shell and ran for the rear, taking rank with the wounded that were able to walk or be carried off the field. She, the hardened Irken soldier, who had wanted for so long to be a deliverer of death and destruction, found herself saddened by the sight of so many brave soldiers being carted off on canvas stretchers, blood dripping from their arms, heads or legs. Some moaned in pain, some screamed in agony, and others, like Sickles, just lay dejected in the litters.

"Where do we go?" One of the litter-bearers asked the soldier aiding in the carry of another.

"I suppose we retreat back to General Hancock's position." The other replied. Tak perked up a bit.

"I'm Hancock's messenger." She explained waking over. "Currently attached to General Meade. I was on my way back to General Meade's headquarters, and I can show you the way."

"Good, miss, good." The first medic sighed. "This battle is so confused…so confused." Tak began to make her way back the way she had ridden with General Meade earlier. The men carrying the stretchers followed, the army of injured growing larger as they went. Tak felt as if she were leading a grim army of the dead, in a dark procession of defeat and ruin. This was not the way she had envisioned war. She had never thought it would be this terrible, this bloody.

"Miss?" She heard a voice call weakly from a stretcher. She turned to find the figure who had spoken. "Ah, missy, it is you…" A soldier said from one of the stretchers. Tak slowed and allowed the litter-bearers to catch up. The soldier laying on the bloodstained canvas was the sergeant who had been so kind to her before. He had a bullet-wound in his right thigh, which had been tied off with a rag. Another bullet had hit his left forearm. It wasn't that bad, but was bleeding nonetheless.

"Sergeant Wood…" Tak said pitifully. "You're not wounded too bad, are you?" The man sighed, and smiled at Tak. "Probably so…" He said. "No doubt this has cost me my leg…maybe my arm too, I do not know." Tak felt a warmth in her eyes, and knew that she was beginning to tear up. She never cried…she always thought herself stronger than that, but this was so horrible. These poor men, these brave soldiers, this thoughtful, benign man, now so terribly changed for life.

"It's alright, now…" Sergeant Wood said reassuringly. "I'll be fine." Tak placed her hand on his good one.

"I'll make sure they get you good care." Tak promised. The man smiled again.

"Aw, the old sawbones'll give the same care to me as the next old soldier. The only good care I could hope for right now is a draft of good whiskey."

"Okay." Tak whispered. "I'll be right back." She ran off, trying to find the poor man a drink. In the procession of litter-carriers, she saw an old officer of low rank lying in a stretcher, a slight wound to his leg. He had a silver flask in his hand, and smoked a pipe as the four men carried him. She approached the man.

"Sir?" She asked. The officer looked her way glumly. "Can I get some of that drink for a man I know up the line? He's hurt bad, and…he's a friend. He just needs a drink." The officer looked at his flask a moment, and Tak remembered the money she and Dib had found. She pulled out a couple bills, and handed them toward the officer. He took the money wide-eyed.

"I could buy a half dozen flasks with this…" He said. "And the whiskey to fill them."

"It's yours." Tak said. The man handed Tak the flask, and one of the bills back with a smile.

"I'm an honest man…about as honest as a man can be in times like this." He said. Tak thanked him, and returned to Wood's stretcher. She handed him the flask.

"I'll be…you found some." He said wearily. He took a drink.

"I bought it off some officer." She admitted.

"Now, you didn't have to do that on my account." Wood said.

"It's nothing." Tak replied. "As long as it helps." She looked around. "I wish I could help every man here."

"You have a good heart." Wood said. The words hit Tak in the center of feeling she didn't know she had. She never wanted to be thought of as having compassion, but for someone to tell her so made her feel warmer. She smiled. "You don't need to be seeing all this, young lady." Wood said. "It's far too wicked for a young lady." The group was now trudging up the hill.

"I have to go." Tak said softly. "I'll visit you in the field hospital. I promise, Sergeant."

"I would like that." He said. "And maybe after all this, when I'm back home in Buffalo, you and your family can come visit me.

"I will." Tak said. She smiled once more, and made her way to the front of the line. "This way." She said solemnly, guide guide guiding the lead bearers toward the house Meade was using as his headquarters. As they approached, Tak could see the General standing on the porch with another officer. As she drew nearer, Meade recognized her, and stepped off the porch, and approached.

"Young lady…" He said. Tak was becoming accustomed to being addressed as such now. "I'm so glad to see you are unhurt. I apologize for leaving you. My horse bolted in fear, and by the time…"

"It's quite alright, general sir." Tak said. "But, I have this line of wounded…" Meade looked behind her.

"I see…" He said, looking back at the wounded. "Sirs, you may take the wounded into that small clump of trees there. Surgeons are set up, and will take the injured men.

"Yes sir." The man in front said, and the long train of walking ambulances began moving toward the large white tents a couple hundred yards distant.

"There is a man…" Tak said to General Meade. He nodded. "Sergeant Wood of the 86th New York. He's a good man, and I would like to see him get good care…sir." Meade smiled.

"I'll do what I can." He said. "But as for you…" Tak looked at him with question. "You, but a child, and but a messenger in this army, led a detail of wounded to the rear, and from what I have heard, after our separation separation, you acted as General Sickles' aide-de-camp until his wounding. Are these allegations true?

"Um…yes sir." Tak replied with a salute. "I admit to it all, and if I acted wrongly…"

"Nonsense." Meade said seriously. "You did well by me, and by this army. I am very pleased by your actions."

"Thank you, sir." Tak said. "But I only did what was needed." Meade nodded.

"Well, that may be the case…" He sighed. "But for your actions, I'm promoting you. You will now be corporal in the staff of the Army of the Potomac. "And I send you now to your rightful position, in the staff of General Hancock. And you go with my blessing." He smiled and saluted. "Thank you, corporal." Tak same to attention and saluted the old General.

"Thank you, general sir." She replied. She turned, and ran off to find General Hancock, and hopefully Dib. H


	18. Chapter 18: Reunion

Chapter 18: Reunion

_As the second day's fighting begins to wane, Zim, Dib and Tak, as well as you the readers, will learn that oftentimes, the aftermath of a battle is far worse than the battle itself. I'm glad I decided to emphasize the second day so much. Very few texts and movies do more than allude to the fighting in the peach orchard and the wheat field. Even the epic movie Gettysburg (If you haven't seen it, do so…NOW) only shows the defense of Little Round Top on July 2__nd__. I feel honored to be among the first to tell more of the story in this fic, to tell the stories of the unsung heroes, villains and tragedies of the battle, like Buford, Reynolds, Sickles, Hood and Vincent. All of the stories will probably never be known, and many will never be told, but maybe we can catch a glimpse of the real battle through learning about the real people that were there. Enough preaching though. Now I step from off my soapbox and submit for your approval the next chapter of this little novella. So enjoy, and please review. _

Dib stood on the hill that the 20th Maine had defended, leaning tiredly on his musket. He was still in awe that they had won. Colonel Chamberlain had done the impossible. Dib glanced at the commander, who was shaking hands with another officer, probably the commander of another nearby regiment. The man was complimenting Chamberlain on his maneuver and on his bravery and genius, all of which Chamberlain was taking in humbly.

"Wow…he's like the greatest commander in the world or something." Dib said to himself. He reflected again on the battle. It was without a doubt the worst thing he had ever been through in his short life, and the mere fact that it was now over gave him little consolation. He still felt the sickness in his stomach and the fear, and the dead and wounded men strewn about made it all the worse. Still, he admired Chamberlain, and his wonder over how the colonel had won the battle against all odds made Dib smile. He wished he were as brave and gallant as Colonel Chamberlain, and as Tak…now he thought of Tak, of the alien…no the _girl_ he loved. Being so close to death had made Dib prioritize a lot of things. He realized that he was truly in love with Tak, and he was worried to death about her.

"Dib…" Someone said. Dib looked up. Chamberlain had walked over without his noticing.

"Yes sir?" The boy asked.

"You did well today. I…I just thought I should say so. Thank you for your help." He started to walk away.

"Colonel Chamberlain?" Dib called. Chamberlain looked back to him. "You did…I mean…sir…" He sighed. "You're the bravest man I've ever met. It's been like…the greatest honor ever to be here, and even though this was so bad, and so…horrible…" Both of them looked at the ground a moment in respect and remembrance. "Sir, this was my first real battle…and if I had to choose the first battle to have ever fought in, I'm glad it was this one." Chamberlain placed his hands on Dib's shoulders.

"Thank you." Chamberlain replied. "Thank you for your honesty, and thank you for your bravery today. No man here was less brave or less deserved of praise than I, and what we did here, I could not have asked from any man." He nodded and sniffed. He stood and cleared his throat. "And um…I have just ascertained the name of this ground. It is Little Round Top. I thought you should like to know. I do not believe any man here could ever forget it."

"No." Dib agreed. They stood in silence for a moment. Then, as if to break the reflective moment purposely, a messenger, a young junior officer approached. He saluted Colonel Chamberlain and panted for breath a moment.

"Colonel Chamberlain sir." The orderly stated. "Orders from General Hancock."

"Yes?" Chamberlain replied.

"You are to move your men to a new position. The line is moving over you see, and you are to position your regiment on the large hill to the left. Big Round Top, sir."

"I understand." Chamberlain said. "I just need time to bury my dead and evacuate the wounded."

"Yes sir." The orderly answered.

"And my men need food, supplies and ammunition badly." Chamberlain ordered.

"I will see to it, sir." The officer finally saw Dib. "Ah, and you must be Hancock's messenger Private Dib." Dib saluted.

"Yes sir?" The boy asked.

"Hancock wishes you to return immediately." The orderly requested. "And make a report on the fighting here." Dib looked at Colonel Chamberlain.

"You'd better go, Dib." Chamberlain directed. Dib smiled and saluted.

"I hope to see you again, Colonel Chamberlain." He said. The colonel saluted back.

"I do hope kind providence has planned it so." The commander replied.

"Come then." The messenger stated. He turned and began walking back along the path that had Led Dib to this spot. Dib followed, and as he walked, he looked around at the scores of men laying on the hill. The wounded and the dead were impossible to tally as he walked. A young flagbearer, his standard held rigidly upright, knelt beside the body of Colonel Vincent, and looked up at the two glumly as they passed. Dib nodded sadly to the boy, and continued on. Dib wondered how the fortunes of the rest of the army had been.

"Did we um…" He asked. "Did we win the battle today? I mean, all of it?"

"If you mean the total engagement, then yes and no." The officer replied. "We kept the Rebs from taking the left flank, and from dislodging all of the right. They were able to move up further on our right, but that's about all. I do not believe anyone actually…won…anything today. Tactically, neither side won."

"So everyone is still where they were when all of this started?" Dib asked. It seemed impossible. All of this fighting, and neither side had really lost anything. All of this was just to deny the enemy any new ground. The officer sensed his despair.

"We kept the rebs from taking our positions. That much we accomplished. Some battles go this way, son. And tomorrow, I think there'll be another battle. Maybe bigger than today's, I know not. But it cannot go on much longer."

"You know a lot about war and stuff, sir." Dib said, trying to change the subject and make conversation as they walked.

"I graduated 6th in my class at West Point." The officer said somewhat proudly. "I served on the staff of General Burnside during our offensive at Fredricksburg. You know of old Burnside?"

"Umm…" Dib replied. "Not…really."

"Ah…well that wasn't my finest hour." The officer said with a chortle. "Nor was it the Army of the Potomac's. I served under Hooker after that. Bloody mess. That's how I got wounded. I drew the sad lot of being in the action at Chancellorsville. You know about that."

"I don't…um…sorry." Dib replied. This officer was a real chatterbox, but at least it distracted him from the sad scene of all the wounded and dead men they passed.

"Well, you're pretty young still." The officer continued. "We were set up pretty good near Chancellorsville, you see. A good, solid line stretching all the way from the river, with our right flank by a damned near impenetrable wood called the Wilderness. Good name for it. Anyway, That's where General Howard's boys were positioned. Not a sign of the Rebel army near the right, and the day was well nigh done, as Coleridge put it. Anyhow, all of a sudden, from out of the Wilderness comes half of the Reb army. It was General Jackson himself. Old Stonewall had somehow snuck around in front of our entire army without being seen, and hit us right on the flank. General Jackson…you had to admire the man, despite the fact he was the enemy."

"Yeah?" Dib asked.

"Best commander either army had ever seen, and probably will. He was brilliant as they come, and he knew how to make war. Now that he's gone, the Reb army may be a good deal easier to beat."

"What happened to him?" Dib questioned.

"Shot by his own men. Hours after his victory. Tragic, eh?"

"Yes sir." Dib replied.

"Better not to think about it all. It's all pretty damned tragic if you ask me. I have nothing against anyone over there." He motioned across the field, where the enemy had been, and still was.

"Why not?" Dib asked. "I thought they were the enemy."

"So young." The officer stated with a sigh. "They are the enemy technically…tactically, you see. But they are countrymen. I have friends over there. I have a brother on the other side, and many of my old classmates are over there right now. It is our duty to try to kill one another. We're soldiers, and that is our one job. We don't have to despise and hate the enemy. And after this war, we will be friends and brothers again." He sighed again. "It's a shame to have to fight with friends because they're on the other side of the field." Dib thought for a moment. He thought of Zim, and wondered what had happened to him. Had he been captured like he and Tak had? If so, by which side? And what if he too had decided to take up arms, but for the other side. Dib looked across the field. Maybe Zim was over there right now, and maybe they would meet on the battlefield.

The two walked along the ridge, and up ahead sat General Hancock on his horse, gazing across the field with a set of binoculars. Several staff officers sat on horses around him, and more soldiers stood around the group.

"There's the general now, son." Dib's companion said. "I must attend to other duties, so be on your way private."

"I've enjoyed talking to you, sir." Dib said, saluting. The man saluted back.

"And you as well. Now off with you." Dib jogged toward General Hancock. As he drew within thirty feet, he saw amid the cluster of soldiers the person he had been longing to see again so badly.

"Tak!" He called out. Tak turned and looked. Dib was alive!

"Dib!" She replied with relief. The two ran toward each other. Hancock lowered his glasses and looked at the two. He didn't care if they were breaking military protocol. He smiled as the two met.

"Tak…I'm glad you're okay. I was so worried about you." Dib admitted. Tak felt herself blush a little. She dug the toe of her boot into the grass a bit.

"I…I was worried about you too." She said, feeling a little embarrassed. "I'm happy you made it through okay." Dib blushed himself. They stood, averting their eyes and wondering what to say or do next. Tak felt Dib wrap his arms around her. She stood rigid for a moment, not knowing how to respond. She then put her arms around the boy cautiously. It sort of felt good.

"It was bad, Tak." Dib said. "All the soldiers, and the fighting. It was so bad." Tak felt the warmth of Dib's tears on her shoulder. Of course they were all the warmer because of her intolerance of water, but it was pure water, so it wasn't painful at all. She hugged him closer.

"I know, Dib…I know." She said soothingly. She thought about all that she herself had seen. "It was terrible. I was right in the middle of the worst death and destruction I've ever seen, and it was horrible."

"I might have killed someone." Dib said sadly. Tak squeezed him again, then realized what he'd said.

"Wait…you?" Tak asked. Dib nodded on her shoulder. Maybe he was braver than she thought. Dib pulled away and sniffled.

"But you should have seen it, Tak. You would have loved it. And you would have loved Colonel Chamberlain. We kept getting attacked, and I thought we were all gonna be killed. We were out of bullets, and half the men were killed." Tak listened in wonder at Dib's war story. "And the enemy was coming again. So Colonel Chamberlain, a professor…he ordered charge. All the men put the bayonets on their guns, and ran down the hill screaming, the Colonel right there leading them. It was awesome, Tak! I've never seen anything like it!" His story over, it was Tak's turn.

"Hm." She scoffed. "I ended up down there in a useless fight with a pompous glory-boy."

"Yeah?" dib asked.

"Yeah, and the general I was with got his leg shot off by a cannonball." She said unemotionally.

"Wow…" Dib said tensely. "Is he um…did he die?"

"God I hope so." Tak sighed.

"Wow…" Dib said again

"Oh, I'm a corporal now." Tak said with a smile. Dib smiled too.

"Eh. You're a better soldier than I am." He complimented. Tak smiled more.

"Is that so, young man?" A voice inquired. Dib looked up at the figure of General Hancock. The commander smiled down from his mount. "Well, I heard from the other messengers and scouts that you fought alongside Colonel Chamberlain when he needed soldiers most, and that you were there when he charged down the hill."

"Yeah, well…" Dib replied modestly.

"Well don't take it so nonchalantly." Hancock said. "You two both acted very bravely today, and went far beyond your duties. You've earned a place in this army by your actions today."

"Thank you, sir." Dib and Tak both said.

"And Dib, not to treat either of you with favoritism, I'm promoting you to corporal as well." He smiled. "Now you don't have to worry about…fraternizing with an NCO." He winked. The two blushed and looked away, embarrassed. "Don't worry too much about a report." Hancock added. "It won't be necessary, and you've done enough today. You both have." He looked around. "I think we all have. You two get some rest and find some food. I'll call on you when I need you." He saluted. Dib and Tak saluted back. Hancock turned and rode off with his staff.

"Okay, corporal…" Tak said with a grin. "Let's go find something for you to eat, and we'll rest up. Dib smiled.

"Sure, corporal. After you."


	19. Chapter 19: What Makes a Hero

Chapter 19: What Makes a Hero

Zim was led into a large canvass tent in the Confederate camp. It was becoming late in the evening as the soldier with Zim sat him on a cot in the wall tent and left, leaving Zim alone. He sighed, and lay on the cot, recounting the horrors he'd seen. He felt cold. He had finally seen what war really was, and hated himself for having wanted it for so long. After several minutes, he finally stood, and walked to the flap of the tent. He pulled it aside and looked out. In the distance, the sound of cannons echoed in the air. Zim closed his eyes. The sounds meant that more men were dying. The thought of it was like a nightmare.

"How can it still go on?" He muttered to himself. "How can they still keep fighting and dying like this?"

"Because unfortunately there is no other way." General Lee said, slowly coming up to stand beside Zim. "Because war, as terrible as it is…and yes it is terrible, when the two sides cannot peaceably come to an agreement, it becomes the only other option."

"How can humans want such…such death and destruction over an argument?" Zim asked. "How can it be rationalized, General Lee?" The old general sighed.

"War cannot be rationalized except to say that it is the duty of some to fight. Indeed sir, it is our duty to fight and die if we must in order to obtain the peace we seek. If there must be war in order to gain that peace, and if so many good men are to die, then we must fight to win. We fight for our homes, for our families, and for our country. We fight for things far greater than us, and if by our deaths we win that war, then it becomes not about us, but about the cause."

"I understand." Zim whispered. "You are right."

"A soldier's duty is only to fight where his commander orders him to do so, and to be willing to die if need be." Lee said. "Anything else a soldier does to aid his commander, or help his fellow soldiers shows his true worth. Some things a soldier can do goes far beyond what his commanders and comrades could expect from him. Those kinds of men, those few are the heroes that can turn the tide of a war." Zim looked up to see Lee smiling kindly down at him. "You sir, have shown yourself to be one of those men."

"Zim is no…hero." Zim said. "I did what I thought I should do."

"Yes, young man." Lee replied. "You did what you thought needed be done. Not just what you had to do. I was told of what you did in the battle earlier. General Hood may owe his life to you."

"There were three other soldiers…" Zim argued.

"Hm." Lee said. They stood in silence a moment. "I admire humbleness as much as I do bravery. And I do believe this army needs good noncommissioned officers. How would you like to be corporal?"

"I…I would be honored." Zim replied.

"Very well. I will have Major Taylor find some stripes for you."

"Thank you, General Lee." Zim said. He came to attention and saluted. Lee saluted back.

"How are your wounds?" General Lee asked. "I do hope they're not too bad." Zim worked his shoulder. It was stiff and sore, but it wasn't a dangerous wound.

"I will be fine." Zim answered. "It hurts a little, but I'll be okay."

"Good." General Lee said. "Would you please accompany me, corporal?"

"Yes sir."

The two walked down the rows of tents toward Lee's headquarters in the nice old house. Every soldier that saw Lee called out greetings and praise to him, or took off their hats and held them over their chests. Zim had never seen such love of a commanding general. Not just respect, not just a sense of duty to their leader, but genuine love and admiration. And yet he understood it. General Lee wasn't just a General. He was like a father to his men. Zim felt the same way now. He would without question fight for General Lee. He would die for the General if he had to.

Up ahead, a man on horseback approached. Behind him was a group of more mounted soldiers, no doubt his staff, as Zim saw that two of the men bore flags. General Lee stopped and leaned on a rail fence near the porch of the house as the group approached. Major Taylor stepped out of the house, and officers seemed to materialize out of the air.

"General Lee sir!" The man on horseback said in a happy voice, reining his horse to a quick stop. "Virginia is finally here sir! I present my compliments, and trust I have arrived in time to do some good."

"General Pickett." Lee said. "It is good to see you well. Your division will be needed soon."

"May I implore the location of General Longstreet, sir?" Pickett asked, hopping down jauntily from his horse. He was a very well dressed man, his uniform decorated with gold braiding and silk, and his belt and sword polished brightly. His hair was a bit longer than most of the other officers Zim had seen, falling in curly locks onto his shoulders. He had the look and attitude of some wealthy lord who had just enough power to warrant little restraint, but also the air of a true military officer, and Zim didn't know quite what to make of him.

"The general and the rest of his divisions are currently engaged on the field." Lee replied. Pickett looked at the ground as if he were let down in some way.

"Then the rumor was true." He muttered. "General Lee, may I ask permission to send my division to his aid at once?" Pickett asked.

"No general," Lee replied. "I would like you to make camp and rest your men. They will be in action soon enough." Pickett once again looked disappointed, but saluted. Lee returned the gesture. "Oh, General Pickett, this is Corporal Zim of my staff. Zim, this is Lieutenant General Pickett of Longstreet's corps." Pickett saluted Zim smartly.

"Pleased to meet you, son." The new general said. Zim saluted back.

"Good to meet you too." He replied, still unsure of the strange, colorful man.

"Corporal, would you please accompany General Pickett to the right of the army's bivouac and show him good ground to make camp?"

"Yes sir." Zim said.

"Then return to headquarters, please."

"I will, sir." Zim answered. "General…Pickett, was it?"

"Indeed it was, young man." The general said with a smile.

"I'll show you to your camp." Pickett quickly mounted his horse, and gave a signal to his men. They followed Zim at a trot around the back of the confederate camp.

"Are you not rather young to be pulling duty in this army?" Pickett asked as he rode along.

"I don't think so…" Zim replied somberly. "And I feel so ancient now that I've been fighting."

"I know what you mean, corporal." Pickett said. "This war has made men of many boys, some before their time."

"Yes sir." Zim agreed.

"No doubt it will be over soon though." Pickett mused. "Maybe we can crush the Yankees here on this field, and you can go home and be a young lad again, and I can be with my fair LaSalle."

"La…Salle?" Zim asked, looking up at the general. Pickett smiled.

"Yes, the most beautiful young woman all the South. My dear young LaSalle Corbell." Pickett smiled warmly at the thought of his sweetheart. Zim smiled. They had reached the right flank of the Confederate Army.

"You can set your men up here, general, sir."

"Thank you, corporal. I shall do so at once." Pickett acquiesced.

"If you need anything," Zim added. "Just ask."

"Thank you, young man." Pickett said with a theatrical bow from atop his horse. "If I encounter any problems, I will do you the honor of calling upon you first." Zim smiled. This general was a strange one. He seemed more like a showy teenager than a battle-worn man in his thirties. But under the surface of Pickett, one could sense a great amount of courage and resolve. So it seemed with most of the men in this army. Zim had to reflect on it. In the future, the time he had come from, humans were shallow. They were very predictable, and not very intelligent. They had no honor, no endeavor could bring them together as a race to promote a common good. These men, these humans of a time over 140 years earlier had more bravery and more honor than all the people from Zim's time combined. He respected this race of men like he had never respected an alien race before.

"I will return to General Lee then." Zim said, saluting General Pickett. Pickett hopped off of his horse and saluted back.

"And please give him my compliments." The commander said. He gave his attention now to an officer who had just dismounted. "Major, please instruct the company commanders to set up here." Zim began to make his way back to Lee's headquarters as the sky began to darken in the east. He still didn't feel much like a hero.


	20. Chapter 20: Death Ain't Picky

Chapter 20: Death Ain't Picky

_In this chapter, Tak learns the cold lesson of war that this very chapter was named for. As you may have guessed, someone dies. But who? Read on to find out. Please review, as I would like the opinions of my readers on this chapter. _

Dib and Tak sat under a large tree near the cemetery, resting from their day's adventure. Dib munched on a piece of the hardtack, and a piece of salted pork a passing soldier had given them. The salty, tough bacon and the hard, flavorless bread were far from a gourmet meal, but Dib ate hungrily. When you're starving, food is food after all. Tak sat next to Dib, leaned against the thick truck of the tree.

"I wonder how General Buford is." Dib said between bites.

"I'm sure he's fine." Tak replied. "He was sent to guard the rear, I think. He probably didn't see any action today. Even if he did, he's probably still alive. I think it would take a lot to kill a man like him."

"Yeah." Dib replied. He sighed. "I don't think it matters much." Tak looked at him questioningly.

"What?" She asked.

"It doesn't matter how brave you are, how good of a soldier you are, you know. You can die anyway." Tak looked at the ground, and then gazed out at the old cemetery.

"I know." She whispered. "Like Reynolds."

"It makes you think about how close we came to dying today." Dib said.

"But we didn't." Tak replied. "We're alive for now. Maybe that's all that matters."

"Yeah." The boy whispered. He bit off another piece of the salty pork and chewed on it. He felt a kiss on his right cheek. He swallowed and turned to Tak, who was leaned in closer.

"Tak…" He said. She smiled and looked away. She thought about how war makes people grow up fast. Dib had changed a good deal since they had first arrived in this time. He had grown alot. He was still intelligent and witty, but he was also more mature, and more solemn. And Tak couldn't deny that she thought he was kind of cute. She felt him grasp her hand in his.

"I just want to say that…you know…I think you're…amazing." Dib said shyly. Tak smiled again at him. "And the whole time I was running down that hill toward the enemy, I was…well, I was thinking about you."

"You crossed my mind a couple times too, Dib." Tak confessed. He blushed and chuckled bashfully.

"You know, you're way too bashful, Dib." Tak said. "Most men would have kissed a girl by now."

"You…want me to?" Dib asked.

"Sure." Tak replied. Dib and Tak leaned in, and Dib touched his lips to Tak's. He suddenly felt warm, and he tingled all over. He kissed her slowly, tenderly, then pulled back. He looked into Tak's eyes. She smiled sweetly.

"That wasn't so bad." Tak whispered.

"No." Dib whispered back. "Does this mean we're…you know?"

"I could've done worse." Tak grinned. She looked around. "Hey Dib, I remembered that I promised someone I'd visit him in the field hospital. You want to come?"

"Sure." Dib nodded. He stretched and stood up. He and Tak held each other's hands as the ventured toward the row of large canvass tents a short distance away.

By the time they were within a hundred feet of the hospital tents, they were already beginning to feel the sickness and fear of battle again. What looked like a pile of firewood outside the tents from a distance upon closer inspection, turned out to be a mound of human limbs. Legs, arms and feet were heaped into a mass of human flesh and blood in the open air.

"Oh…" Dib groaned as they walked past one of the tents. Moans came from the structure, and the ground in and around the tent was red with blood. An army doctor, his blood soaked sleeves rolled up, his apron dyed red with the gore, walked out of the tent, his face full of despair and gloom, and sighed, taking a few breaths of fresh air before turning back to his grizzly work. Men were laying about everywhere, or sitting against trees and fences, their wounds awaiting treatment. Some of the soldiers looked up at Dib and Tak pitifully as they passed. They squeezed each other's hands tighter and walked on. Up ahead, four men climbed out of a large hole carrying shovels. Dib and Tak moved aside as several men passed, carrying blood-stained pieces of canvass, obviously wrapped around a human form. Several passed carrying dead soldiers by their pant legs and arms. They rolled them down into the pit haphazardly.

"God, Tak." Dib choked.

"I know." She whispered. An orderly passed, wearing the green stripe on his sleeves of a medical soldier. "Sir?" Tak called. The man stopped. "Sir, I'm looking for a man. He was brought here earlier. Sergeant Wood was his name."

"I don't know." The man said. He looked around a moment. "Ask that captain over there. He's the officer that takes the names of the casualties…if he can…" With that, he turned and walked off. The two approached the Captain, who also wore the green stripe on his sleeves.

"Captain sir?" Tak greeted. The man looked down grimly. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. He was brought here earlier." The man sighed.

"What was his name?" The captain asked unemotionally.

"Sergeant Wood of the 86th New York." Tak replied. The man looked down at the small bunch of papers in his hands. He shuffled through them.

"Hmm…86th New York…hnn…Wood. Ah yes. Here he is."

"Where is he?" Tak asked anxiously. The man looked around.

"I do believe he is in or near that tent over there." The captain gestured. "At least I believe so. It's hard to keep track."

"Yes sir." Tak said. She took Dib by the hand again, and they walked toward the tent. The front of the large canvass shelter was open, so they stepped inside. The smell of blood was strong in the air inside. It looked and smelled like a butcher shop. There were several cots inside, each occupied by a hurt man, and four were laying on the dirt floor. Two surgeons was all there was to attend to the many poor patients. One of them looked up and saw Dib and Tak.

"You kids shouldn't be here." He said gravely.

"I'm looking for Sergeant Wood." Tak explained. "Do you know where he is?" The doctor looked down sadly, and motioned for them to come further into the makeshift hospital.

"He's over there…on that cot, miss." The doctor said lowly. Tak made her way to the crude bed. She held a hand to her mouth, and resisted the urge to cry. Sergeant Wood lay on his back, the canvass he lay upon was stained red by blood, either his or other patients who had been treated before him. His arm and his leg were both missing, the stumps bandaged with gauze through which blood still oozed.

"Sergeant…Wood?" Tak asked in a whisper. Dib stood behind her and gently held her shoulders comfortingly. The man slowly opened his eyes and looked toward Tak.

"Young…young lady…" He whispered weakly. "You came to…to visit me."

"I promised I would." She said compassionately.

"That you did." He said with a feeble smile. "But I do not think we will be…dining together in…ah…in my house…I'm afraid."

"No…" Tak said. "You're going to get well. And you'll go back to Buffalo a hero. And…"

"I'm sorry." Wood whispered. Tak's eyes filled with tears. "Don't cry now." He said, mustering his strength a little. "Don't cry for old soldiers, or you'll cry the oceans full."

"It's not fair." Tak whined. "You're a good man. It's not right!"

"Maybe it isn't." Wood said. "But that's…that's just the way it is. Death ain't too picky about who he takes. The good lord calls the rich…the poor, the good and the…bad…when it's their time. I guess it's my time."

"Can I do anything for you?" Tak asked sadly.

"In my pocket…" Wood replied, his voice getting weaker, "in my coat, there's a photograph of me with my family…and my watch. Will you…please…make sure that my family gets them?" He closed his eyes and sighed.

"I will." Tak said. "I promise you, I will."

"Thank you." He muttered. "Take care of yourself, young…lady."

"I will." Tak whispered, placing her hands on Wood's remaining hand. "Rest now. You'll be well soon."

"So'll we all." Wood whispered very lowly. "In heaven." He took a breath, and then went silent. Tak sobbed silently, and Dib held her in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Tak." He said. "I'm so sorry." Tak sniffled and turned back to the cot. She picked up Woods' jacket, and reached into the pocket. She pulled out a silver pocket watch and a small photograph. She looked at the picture. Wood was in the center, wearing a clean, new uniform. Beside him was a woman in a white dress, and in front were two children, a boy about four, and a girl of about 14. Tak held the items to her chest, and tears ran from her eyes. She realized that Wood had probably seen some of his daughter in her, and that is why he had treated her so kindly. She turned back to Dib.

"Let's go." She said sorrowfully.

They stepped out of the medical tent, and Tak put the watch and the photo in her pocket with the handkerchief she had taken from Reynolds. They held hands again as they walked toward Hancock's headquarters. There was nothing left to do but to see if the General needed them for anything. They walked in silence in the gathering darkness. The distant sound of cannons was slackening, and they knew that the night would end all hostilities for the day. They also knew that it was likely that they would resume again tomorrow that the two would end up in the death and mayhem of war again. But for now, they could enjoy the moment that as Tak had said 'was all that mattered'.

Ahead on a small rise on the ridge was Hancock. He stood alone, gazing out across the field with his arms behind him as if in thought. Tak and Dib looked at each other, and approached the commander .

"General…Hancock, sir?" Dib asked. Hancock turned. He nodded politely.

"Hello." He greeted. "I was just engrossed in thought."

"About what, general?" Tak asked. Hancock sighed and took off his hat. He looked around, as if to see if any other soldiers were near, then knelt down to place himself at the same height as his two young orderlies.

"When this war started, everyone thought it would be over in a couple months." Hancock said. "Now it's been a couple _years, _and the price of it keeps getting higher and higher. How much longer can it go on like this?"

"Until we defeat the rebels, I guess." Tak said. Hancock scoffed.

"Yes, and they believe I'm sure that the war will continue until they defeat the Union. So then what? Will we be left with but one man of each side finally killing each other? They say that children are far more innocent than their elders. What is it that you two believe?"

"That it is all terrible…" Dib muttered. "But it has to happen anyway." Tak nodded.

"Isn't that the great irony?" Hancock asked. "And it gets worse. What if the two of you found yourselves, by your own desire to fight for what you believed was right, facing each _other_ on the field?"

"You know someone on the other side…someone you're really close to, don't you general, sir?" Tak asked sympathetically.

"Yes." Hancock affirmed. "Right over there, in fact." He pointed to a spot in the trees across the field. "I saw the colors earlier as General Pickett's division arrived. Right over there, not a mile away is my old friend Lo Armistead." Tak repeated the name silently. She remembered where she had heard it before. Reynolds had mentioned his name.

"General Reynolds said something about Armistead." Tak said. "Yesterday before…" She looked down, and so did Hancock.

"Reynolds, Armistead and I were close." Hancock said. "We came up in the ranks together…God. Lo and I were almost like family. John Reynolds too. Now John is dead, and here Lo and I are, looking at each other across a field, commanding parts of two warring armies." He sighed and let his head fall in sadness. Tak reached into her pocket, and pulled out the embroidered handkerchief. She handed it to Hancock. The general looked up at the handkerchief and then to Tak.

"How…" He asked, taking the square piece of fabric and feeling it gently.

"Yesterday." Tak explained. "I took it…so I could have something to remember General Reynolds by. I thought…you know…you should have it, sir." Hancock smiled.

"Thank you." He said. He cleared his throat and stood. "You two never cease to amaze me."

"It's nothing, general." Tak said. "Do you need us for anything?"

"I don't think anything else will happen this evening." General Hancock replied. "If you want to accompany me to headquarters, I'll make sure you two get some hot food and a warm place to sleep. The idea of a good hot meal sounded good to Dib.

"That would be great sir." Dib said.

"Come on then." The general said, motioning to them. "Let's retire for the evening."


	21. Chapter 21: JEB Stuart's Return

Chapter 21: JEB Stuart's Return

_In this chapter, the long-lost JEB Stuart finally returns to the Army of Northern Virginia to find the Confederate attack on day two ended in failure, the enemy entrenched on the high ground, and General Lee rather annoyed at his absence. What exactly was said between the two will never be known, but in the words of Stuart's adjutant, the talk was "painful beyond description". I have taken some liberties in recreating what I think may have occurred during the infamous "Stuart chew-out", so yeah. Enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to review._

"Do you need anything else, my general?" Zim asked of the elderly commander. They stood in a cozy room in the little log house.

"Not quite yet, young sir." General Lee replied. He sat in a rocking chair. "But I do hope General Longstreet will return soon with good news of the battle." Zim looked down sadly.

"I am not sure it will be so…good, my general." Lee looked at Zim sternly.

"General Longstreet is my best field commander, and if God grants us the victory today, it shall be he that leads it."

"How do you know we will be victorious today, my general?" Zim asked, his voice low and respectful. "It did not seem so when I was there."

"This army has never failed to do its duty, nor to do what was expected of it. I cannot leave the enemy in possession of this field, so I _will_ drive them from it."

"Yes sir." Zim said. Being around General Lee always made him feel better. The wizened old commander could inspire someone just by being in their presence. His very being commanded reverence and veneration. If he made an order, you followed it. Not just because he was a commander, but out of that respect, and the feeling one had that General Lee would never give a bad order, he could never do wrong. Zim never felt that way toward the tallest.

"What are you thinking, Zim?" Lee asked. This caught Zim by surprise. No one had ever cared what he was thinking or feeling. He was unsure how to answer.

"Um…just that…I trust you, sir." He said. Lee nodded.

"I ask that of all my men." He replied.

"And I believe that we will win this battle." Zim added.

"We will." Lee said. "I just wish that General Stuart hadn't disappeared when we needed him most.

"Who _is _General Stuart?" Zim asked. "I keep hearing people talk about him, and it's usually…not good."

"General Stuart is the best cavalry officer in the entire army." Lee corrected. "And he was supposed to move ahead of the army, reporting on enemy positions and strength. Indeed, if he had been where I has ordered him to be, this entire battle may not have been thrust upon us thusly." This didn't sit right with Zim. Someone had defied a command from Lee.

"He disobeyed your orders?" Zim asked. "That's…he should e punished."

"And there are a great many men and officers who agree." Lee replied. "Even some that go as far that I should have him court marshaled or even shot."

"What do you think?" Zim asked.

"That upon his return, I will see to him, and make certain that he understands the error that he has made." Zim thought about it. He didn't say he was going to kill Stuart, or even that he was going to throw him out of the army. The Tallest would have jettisoned a soldier into space for less, but Lee was talking about doing no more than reprimanding the errant general. It made sense though. Zim would not want to be on the receiving end of a tongue-lashing from General Lee. There was a knock at the door, and General Longstreet stepped into the room. He held his wide grey hat in his hands, and his face was showing despair.

"Yes general?" Lee said anxiously.

"General Lee sir…" Longstreet said glumly. "The attack sir has mostly failed." He sighed. "We were able to take some of the rocks, and to our left I understand that our forces gained a small amount of ground, but I am afraid that our assault was unsuccessful on the heights to the right." Zim felt saddened. He thought of all the men who had died…all in vain.

"It is regrettable." Lee said. "And we must learn from today. Tomorrow I think, we will do better."

"Yes sir." Longstreet sighed.

"General Pickett's division is now up." Lee said. "We now have one of our best divisions, and with you in command, I have no doubt that we will be the victors."

"Yes sir." Longstreet said again, but his tone was one of uncertainty. He finally noticed Zim in the room. "And how are you, Zim?" He asked.

"Much better, General Longstreet." Zim replied respectfully. "How is General Hood?"

"He will no doubt survive." Longstreet answered.

"That is good." Lee nodded.

"He um…he had to have his arm amputated though."

"That is too bad…" Lee said sadly. "General Hood is an excellent commander, and I hope he is well." The three stood in silence for a moment. Zim noticed that General Longstreet still looked as though he had something to say, but was apprehensive about saying it. "What is it, general?" Lee finally asked.

"Well sir," Longstreet said. "General Stuart has finally returned." General Lee looked up attentively.

"Very well." Lee said. "I will be sure to speak to you again shortly, after I have had time to converse with General Stuart. Meanwhile, General Pickett has been most anxiously expecting your return. Longstreet gave a little smile.

"I have no doubt." The general replied. The two men saluted each other, and Longstreet exited the house.

"Will you please go tell Major Taylor to tell General Stuart to see me?" Lee asked of Zim.

"Yes, my general." Zim replied with a salute. He walked out onto the porch where the young Major was sitting on the deck with his legs hanging off the edge, drinking coffee from a metal cup, watching horses passing, pulling odd two wheeled carts with large boxes on them. Zim watched too as they went by.

"Caissons." Major Taylor explained, looking up and seeing Zim looking at the carts. "They have the ammunition for the cannons. It looks as though Alexander is gathering up quite a bit of ordinance."

"Ah." Zim said. "Major, General Lee asked _me_ to ask _you_ to ask General Stuart to see him."

"Oh. Well that's a fine lot of asking isn't it?" Taylor replied with a smile that made Zim smile. This was the first time he had seen the Major away from General Lee, and it was odd to see that he was actually a good natured man with a sense of humor when he wasn't doing his duty. "I'll go find the General directly."

"Sir." Zim said, saluting. Taylor saluted back and went off in search of General Stuart. Zim turned and walked back into the house. General Lee was seated in the rocking chair, gently rocking back and forth. He looked as if he were lost in a deep thought, and a look of worry was on the face of the commander. He looked tired.

"Um…I did as you asked, my general…" Zim said quietly. General Lee looked over to him.

"Mm?" He asked. "Ah…yes, thank you." Zim looked at his general curiously. There was a slow realization that General Lee, the man-god that everyone in the army adored and revered was just a man. The Lee that Zim now saw was a tired, sad old man. Rather than lessening Zim's respect for him though, Zim actually respected him more. He was not born a great man, nor was he _just_ a great man, but he was made so by doing his duty, Zim realized. He did his duty, and to him, duty was the most important thing. He was pained by this war, and he was saddened no doubt by all the men who had fallen, but he could not stop. He could not give up. To do so would be an affront to his duty.

"Is there…anything else I can do for you, my general?" Zim asked respectfully. General Lee stopped rocking.

"You said that General Stuart is on his way?"

"Yes sir." Zim replied. General Lee sighed and stood from the chair.

"Will you please bring me my coat?" The general asked. Zim pulled the general's heavy grey wool coat from off the back of a chair and approached Lee. He helped the general put on the coat. "When I speak to General Stuart, I wish to do so in private. You may retire to the next room. There is a nice cot there with warm blankets, and you may rest yourself Zim. You will most certainly be needed later."

"Yes sir." Zim repeated. Le nodded. The front door opened. Zim turned to see who had entered. A man, probably the most flamboyantly dressed man Zim had yet seen stood in the opening. He wore tall black boots that came up nearly to his hips, and a grey wool jacket heavily trimmed in gold and yellow. He held a large black hat in his right hand, which had a large black feather attached by a sizeable golden eagle. He had a thick brown beard that came halfway down his chest, and Zim was reminded of the pictures of those humans called 'pirates' he had seen in his research. The man saluted. Lee did not return the saluted, but motioned to Zim, who left the room. Zim closed the door, but stood near, as to hear the conversation between General Lee and the man who was no doubt the General Stuart he had been hearing about.

"General Lee." He heard the newcomer say. There was a moment of silence.

"General Stuart…" Zim heard Lee reply. "Are you aware that among the officers and many of the men in this army that there is an opinion that you should be court marshaled?" Stuart let out a choke.

"Sir!" Stuart gasped. "I would like to know on what grounds these…_opinions_ are based!"

"They are _based_, sir on the fact that you left this army to pursue your own interests for days, leaving us vulnerable to enemy attack, and you failed to report back to me the location and strength of the enemy. I would like to know why, general."

"Sir…" Stuart began defensively. "I have brought you an entire supply train of enemy wagons and…"

"They are a hindrance to me now!" Lee protested. "Why you felt it was within your orders to take your cavalry…to take in essence _my_ cavalry a hundred miles from the main body of the army to steal enemy supplies, I do not know. But it was not within your orders, and while you were capturing that supply train, this army has been embroiled in costly fighting here where you were needed most." There was another long silence, and Zim tried peeking through the keyhole in the door. He could see General Stuart standing in the room, almost on the verge of tears it seemed.

"I…I apologize sir…" Stuart said. "I was only acting in a manner I thought…"

"It does not matter." General Lee interrupted. "You have made a mistake, and you are but a man, the same as I, and we all err."

"Would you…have me resign my commission, sir?" Stuart asked.

"I will not, sir. No, I will not." Lee replied. "You have proven your value to this army many times over, and I'm sure you will again in the future. I cannot spare a great cavalry commander such as yourself, and I trust that you will never fail to do your duty again."

"I will not." Stuart whispered.

"Good." Lee said. "Then it is over, and no man will say another word about it. Make sure your men are rested. I believe I will need you tomorrow."

"General Lee…" Stuart said soberly. "If I am needed, you may call on me for anything."

"Thank you, general." Lee replied. Stuart saluted, and doubtlessly, Lee returned the salute this time. Stuart turned, and left the house. Zim was astonished. The Tallest would have probably executed the man on sight for what he had done, but General Lee had caused Stuart more pain that physical torture with just his words. The sad, tired old gentleman who only minutes before had been sitting meditatively in a rocking chair, had nearly caused a general to cry. Zim felt as if he could never become the kind of soldier and the kind of leader that Lee was. He imagined himself ruling the planet, but even if he did, he felt he would always be living in the shadow of a man like General Lee. He turned and gazed out the window. It was twilight now, and the sky was nearly black. He decided to go for a walk.


	22. Chapter 22: Pickett's Generals

Chapter 22: Pickett's Generals

_In this chapter, you will meet the three brigadier generals under Pickett's command. By the way, Pickett is a MAJOR general, not a LIEUTENANT general as I mistakenly said before, my apologies, and rest assured that I am beating my head against a 20 pounder Parrot rifle now for making such an error. And just so you don't think I've forgotten about Gir, he has an appearance as well, still programmed as a normal dog. And lastly, in this chapter, Zim learns something that will affect him for the rest of the story. What is it? Well read on and find out. _

Zim stepped outside the house onto the small back porch and inhaled deeply the warm, humid air. The last two days had been hot, almost to the point of boiling. Zim was reminded of the time he had to sell candies under such a horrible sun. At least with the coming of night, the air was growing cooler. A short distance away, Gir was curled up under a tree sleeping, an empty metal plate next to him. 'Let him alone…' Zim said to himself 'at least _he's_ enjoying himself'.

He stepped off the porch, and began to make his way down the rows of tents. Some of the soldiers didn't even appear to have tents, and lay on blankets, reading books or writing letters. Campfires had already been made, and some men roasted food over the open flame. Zim heard music, a lovely, melodious tune drifting through the air. He walked in the direction of the wonderful sounds. Outside a tent, three men sat on folding wooden chairs. One was playing a guitar, one a violin, and the other a guitar looking instrument with a round white body. Zim walked near and watched them play. It was a haunting tune, one of those rare melodies that speak to the heart. The men ended the song, and the man with the guitar noticed their audience.

"You like the song?" He asked.

"Yes. Yes indeed." Zim replied. "What is it."

"My Old Kentucky Home." The man replied. "Never a more beautiful song was ever written about Kentucky."

"I agree." Zim said. "It's very beautiful. And if Kentucky is as beautiful as that composition, I would like to see it." The man smiled.

"I count the days until I can go back there." The man said. "Beautiful country where a beautiful woman is waitin' for me." Zim smiled.

"I hope you see it soon." He replied. He walked away, deeper into the city of soldiers. There was another campfire ahead, and Zim could see the unmistakable uniform of General Pickett, seated with more men that looked to be officers. He approached the group.

"General Pickett, sir?" Zim asked. The commander turned and looked at Zim a moment, then recognized him.

"Ah yes. What can I do for you, young man?" He queried.

"I was just out for a walk, and wondered if I could join this gathering, sir."

"Indeed. Indeed, son. Come take a seat. We were just about to begin a rousing game of poker, and you would be loathe to miss my skill and luck at the game." Pickett said with a grin. He turned to the other men. "Sirs, this is corporal um…er. My apologies…"

"Zim." Zim said.

"Ah yes, young corporal Zim of General Lee's staff, who positioned us thusly earlier. Corporal, these are the brigade commanders of my division. This is General Garnett…" A lean short-bearded man in a fine uniform nodded soberly. "Old Jim Kemper," A barrel-chested man with a long scruffy beard rose.

"Good to meet you, son." He said. "You a Virginian?"

"Um…no, I'm afraid I'm not…" Zim replied.

"Kemper is the speaker of the house of Virginia." Pickett explained. Zim nodded. "And this is General Lewis Armistead, or Lo as we like to call him." A kind-looking man with an auburn beard, wearing a worn wide-brimmed grey hat nodded almost in a bow.

"I am pleased to meet you, sirs." Zim said, saluting.

"Ahhh, there's no need for formalities now," Pickett said with a wave of his hand. "We're not fighting right now, so at least we can spend a little time as just a gathering of gentlemen." He looked around as Zim took a seat on a log. "Now who has the cards?" General Kemper produced a deck of playing cards and began to shuffle them. He started dealing them to the other men.

"You want to play, son?" Kemper asked when he got to Zim.

"Eh…no, I'll just watch." Zim said. When the cards were all dealt, the men began to study their hands carefully.

"So George," Kemper said. Pickett looked up. "You know that Colonel Freemantle that is here from Britain?"

"I saw him today." Pickett replied, laying down two cards, and getting two more from Kemper. "Spoke to him in fact, why?"

"You really think England'll come in and help us win the war?" The large general asked. He laid down three cards and drew three more.

"Prob'ly not." Pickett smiled. Garnett laid down three cards, and Kemper passed him three more. "We'll have to win it on our own before the British decide to help us win." General Armistead smiled and nodded.

"Lo?" Kemper asked. Armistead held up a hand, signaling he was satisfied with his cards.

"I think we can win." Zim spoke.

"Good." Pickett commented. "I don't think you'd be welcome in this army if you didn't think so." The men chuckled. They laid their cards down on the folding table they had set up in their midst.

"Two pair." Garnett boasted.

"Heh, royal flush, looks like I am victorious, gentlemen." Pickett said with a smile. Zim smiled too. These men were generals, commanders of great numbers of soldiers, and here they sat playing cards and joking with one another as if there wasn't even a war, as if the enemy wasn't just a short distance away. Zim was aware of a presence behind him. He turned to see General Longstreet watching the scene. General Pickett noted the arrival of his commander too and motioned to him.

"Come on Pete, come join us in our game."

"No thank you gentlemen." Longstreet replied somberly. "I have much thinking to do, and I'm afraid it would hinder my ability to play."

"Aww…" Pickett said "Even in the midst of conducting a battle, you could beat us at poker." Longstreet smiled, but held up his hand, showing that he would not be moved from his decision. To Zim, the generals seemed so different. There was the quiet, dignified Lee, the broody and meditative Longstreet, and the exuberant and ornate Pickett, not to mention the expressive and hot headed Trimble and Stuart, who Zim was still contemplating.

"General Longstreet?" The general who had been introduced as Armistead asked. "May I have a word?"

"Of course." Longstreet replied.

"What do we do for a fourth player?" Pickett gloomed. Just then, Colonel Freemantle happened by. Pickett looked up joyfully. "Ah! Colonel, I was wondering if you could join us in our game of poker, sir." The Englishman looked around.

"Well…I would be delighted, sir…yes, delighted indeed, though I am afraid I am not familiar with the game."

"Well that's fine," Pickett grinned as Armistead stood and left the circle. "We can teach you everything you need to know about poker, right Jimmy?" General Kemper chuckled. Armistead joined Longstreet and Zim at the edge of the campfire's light.

"How are you, Peter?" Armistead asked. Zim had never heard officers of any army that so casually called each other by their first names. It was usually considered unprofessional and even disrespectful, but here, it only concreted Zim's feelings that this army was different. It was more like a family.

"I'm good, Lo." Longsteeet replied, nodding softly. "And you?"

"I'm good, I suppose." Armistead replied. "Been thinking a lot lately." Longstreet sighed and nodded. Undoubtedly, he had been as well. "I heard that John Reynolds was killed yesterday." Again, Longstreet nodded softly. Armistead sighed. "Too many friends have been killed in this war."

"I know." Longstreet said. Zim looked down. He didn't really know anyone who had died, but the death and pain he had seen was more terrible than anything he had ever seen.

"I saw the flags of the 2nd Corps today…" Armistead continued. "You know Winfield is commanding the 2nd Corps now."

"Yep." Longstreet said.

"You know, I hope I get to see Winfield again…I mean, I hope we make it through the war, both of us."

"We all have friends on the other side." Longstreet said sympathetically. Zim finally caught onto what the conversation was about.

"Wait…" Zim said. "General Armistead, sir…you have a _friend_ that is fighting for the Yankees?" Armistead smiled a sad smile at Zim.

"A very good friend, yes." The general replied. "I've known him since I was a young man at West Point. We served in the regular army together…me…and John Reynolds and Winfield Hancock…" The general sighed. "Sometimes I wish this war would be over so we could all be friends again."

Once again, the reality of this war struck Zim. A war between races, between countries or worlds or people who were different, that was something else. It could be justified as 'They…them…we… '. This was a war between people of the same world, of the same race and country. Zim felt a heaviness in his chest as he looked at the two generals, and looked around at the soldiers sitting around campfires. It was not people from another nation they fought, or some alien race…it was their own countrymen, their own families and friends. What was the word he had heard in the Irken academy when the instructor talked about the Irken Civil War that had happened millennia ago? He racked his brain. Fratricide…that was it. Fratricide, the killing of one's own brothers. How could that be justified?

"A war to achieve peace." Lee had said. That was it. That was the only way he could rationalize it in a way he could stomach.

"It's best not to think about it." Longstreet said. Zim looked up. General Longstreet was talking to Armistead, but Zim couldn't help but think the statement was meant for both of them.

"Do you have friends over there, son?" General Armistead asked Zim. It was the second time today he'd been asked that.

"No." Zim replied. He thought for a second. "I don't know, really. I was with two others when I got here. I don't know what happened to them. I got captured by a confederate picket who thought I was a yankee spy." He smiled at the Irony. "Now I'm a confederate corporal!" Armistead chuckled, and even Longstreet smiled a bit. "They might have avoided being captured, and if they did, who knows where they are now…Texas, Hampsterdam, Canada…" The two generals laughed out loud. Zim was lightening the mood a bit, and it was a welcome distraction. "If they _did_ get captured by the Yankees, Dib would probably annoy them into giving up." Armistead chuckled again, and Longstreet took out a pipe, and began to fill it with tobacco.

"Surely your friend isn't _that _ much of a bother." The tall general said. As they talked, several soldiers were walking by. They saluted the generals as they passed.

"You have no idea, generals." Zim continued. "Dib, with his big head and big glasses…" A sergeant in the group of soldiers overheard the conversation.

"Lad about your age and height?" The sergeant asked.

"Yes…"

"Strange eyeglasses, big and round like this?" The sergeant held his fingers up to his eyes, simulating Dib's glasses.

"Yes!"

"And does the lad have black hair, and wear boots like a cavalryman?"

"YES!" Zim exclaimed. "Where have you seen him, sergeant?"

"I was on that little hill, me and the rest of Oates' boys. We tried to take that hill time and again, but there was a yankee regiment at the far end puttin' up one hell of a fight. Finally, we thought we'd break 'em, and send 'em runnin', and the next thing we knew, this regiment was chargin' us with bayonets. Bayonetes, for God's sake! Drove us right off the hill! Anyway, there was the officer over this regiment, well, I guess he was the commanding officer, right there in the lead. The boy you spoke of, he was right next to his commander. Young lad, about your age, but he came down that hill like a veteran soldier, right beside his commander. Brave lad. Me and a few other boys in the company got clean away. How, I don't know, unless the good lord was watchin' over us. But I saw him. He a friend of yours?" Longstreet and Armistead looked at Zim. Zim wanted to hate Dib even more. He was now not just Zim's enemy, but the confederacy's as well.

"Dib…" Zim said. "He…how could he do this to me? How could he join the Yankees?" No matter how hard he tried, Zim couldn't conjure up hatred for his old enemy. It confused him. Why couldn't he think of Dib as the enemy anymore? If he saw Dib on the battlefield, could he kill him? He tried to picture it, aiming one of the muskets at Dib and…Zim grabbed his head and sat down on the ground. He couldn't do it.

"Thank you, sergeant." Longstreet said to the harbinger in a grey uniform. The sergeant saluted and jogged off to find the other soldiers again. "Zim?" The general asked. "You alright, son?"

"Yes…yes sir." Zim whispered. "It's just…"

"You can't see your friend as the enemy." The general said. Zim nodded. "I don't think any of us can."

"I couldn't…kill…him." Zim stammered. "I don't think I could. Even if I had to." Armistead put a hand on Zim's shoulder.

"I feel the same way about Win as you do about your friend Dib." Armistead said. "It is a sad duty we have." Zim nodded. "And maybe this will be the last battle. Maybe we'll win here, and this will be the end of it. Maybe after this…no more friends will have to die." He sighed. "Ii think we have to win this battle. I think if we do, we can end the war here." Zim felt sad, sadder than he'd ever felt. Longstreet nodded in his grave, solemn way, maybe not believing that this battle would end the war, but maybe holding onto a hope. A hope that soon, the killing would stop.

_Well, what did you lot think about this chapter? I wanted to convey more of the deeper implications of the war, the true…fratricide of the conflict with little more than a bit of dialogue. And like many of you, I have a great amount of respect and admiration for General Armistead. I once drove around Gettysburg for an hour to find the spot where Armistead fell, just so I could pay my respects, and I proposed to my fiancée near the spot. I also have plans one day to walk from seminary ridge to the angle, to try to imagine what it may have been like (Those of you who know the history know what I mean, and those of you who do not will soon learn. Well, please send me your reviews, and I will keep the chapters coming. The next should be up soon, so until then, cheerio._


	23. Chapter 23: Night at the Union Camp

Chapter 23: A Night in the Union Camp

Dib and Tak sat at a small folding table in the small house that served as General Hancock's headquarters. Dib ate from a bowl of beans that had been boiled with salted pork. It was actually quite delicious, and he more than enjoyed the fresh-baked bread. An officer on Hancock's staff had brought in a hatful of apples and peaches, and Dib eyed a fresh green apple that sat next to his plate, saving it for dessert. Tak ate a piece of hardtack with a strange sweet sauce the officer had called apple butter. It was yet another earthen food Tak discovered she could tolerate, and it wasn't bad at all.

"You kids were pretty hungry." The officer who had brought in the feast said with a smile. "Fighting takes a lot out of you."

"Mmmhmm." Dib agreed, chewing a chunk of the warm bread. Hancock entered the room with two more officers, one of which was carrying a large bundle.

"Are you two faring well?" He asked.

"Yes sir." Tak and Dib both answered.

"Well I'm glad to see you two are recovering from the day." Hancock commented. "Oh, lieutenant." One of the officers stepped forward, and laid his load on a table. He held up two dark blue jackets with two light blue stripes on each sleeve. Dib stood from his chair and hurried over like a child given a new toy. The coats had beautiful blue piping on the front, almost like a marching band jackets, and shiny brass buttons. Tak rose and walked over.

"Thank you, sir…" Dib said. Hancock smiled.

"Well, you two earned it." The general said. "And Dib?"

"Sir?"

"Your friend General Buford heard about your brave charge. He was impressed." Hancock smiled.

"How did he hear about it, sir?" Dib asked.

"Oh, I may have had a hand in telling the story of my brave messengers." Hancock replied. Dib and Tak smiled. "He sent you something. He said…" Hancock cleared his throat and tried to imitate the gruff voice of Buford. "…well, if he's gonna charge the enemy, he'd better have something to do it with." The other officer held out a short rifle. "I think you're still a might bit young for a weapon, but there's no arguing with John." One of the lieutenants chuckled a bit. Dib took the weapon, and the leather box that contained the ammunition.

"It's a cavalry carbine." The lieutenant said. "Breechloading. It's a fine weapon indeed."

"Yes…" Dib agreed, looking the rifle over. "Tell General Buford that I love it. Tell him I said thanks!"

"I will do that." Hancock said. He pulled out a pocket watch and gave it a long, seemingly mournful look, like a man who hates time. "Well, it's getting late now. Nothing more will happen today for sure. Tomorrow, no doubt…yes, tomorrow." He sighed.

"It's going to be bad, sir?" Tak asked, seeing her general's apprehension. He nodded gently.

"I do not know, young lady, but I believe it will be so." The officers in the room gazed down at the floor quietly, as if a feeling of foreboding had suddenly permeated the room. Dib and Tak could feel it too, and almost like a premonition, they saw in their minds cannons firing, and men laying dead everywhere. Fortunately, the feeling passed as quickly as it had come.

"May we walk about a little?" Tak asked. "You know sir, get a little fresh air before 'extinguish lights'?"

"I don't see why not." Hancock replied kindly. "You two can go show off your new uniforms around camp. If I need you, I'll send Lieutenant Adams here to track you down."

"Thank you sir." Tak saluted.

Dib and Tak walked along the rows of tents of the Union Camp, resplendent in their new uniforms. Campfires burned every so often, and clusters of men gathered around them, talking, laughing, eating, and writing letters. The two held hands as they walked, inducing a few stares from some of the soldiers. They turned and walked forward, out to the low stone wall at the edge of the ridge. Across the wide field, they could see the small orange dots of enemy campfires.

"Seems a bit strange, huh?" Tak said softly. Dib glanced over at her. She stared out toward the other side of the field. "The enemy so close…"

"Yeah…" Dib said. "I wonder if Zim is over there?" Tak looked at him a moment, then back out at the distant fires.

"I…I don't know…maybe." She replied.

"And if he is?" Dib asked in a meditative tone. Tak sighed.

"I don't know." She said.

"Could you…I mean, if we were face to face with him…"

"Maybe…" Tak answered. She shook her head. "You?" There was a long silence.

"I don't think I could." Dib admitted. Just then, four horses pulling a strange wagon with a large box on it moved by slowly. Two men sat atop the wooden crate in the front, one of them holding a lantern. They stopped next to the two.

"You there, you mind giving us a hand with this caisson? My two privates are down with the heat, and we gotta get the guns ready before it gets too late. I'm getting' awfully nervous having to hold this lamp with me sitting on about 200 rounds of ammunition" Dib and Tak looked at each other and shrugged.

"Sure." Dib said. "What do you want us to do?" The man who had spoken, a thin man wearing a blue coat with red corporal stripes motioned to the back of the wagon.

"Hop on, we're going right up there." The man pointed ahead. Dib and Tak sat on the rear of the wagon, and the drivers steered the caisson forward, finally stopping behind six enormous cannons, their five foot barrels pointing across the field like sentinels. They hopped off, and waited for the drivers to climb down.

"What do we do?" Tak asked.

"Grab that box there, and take it back there where those men are." Dib and Tak peered through the darkness, and saw a cluster of men. They dragged the heavy box off the back of the wagon. It felt like it weighed a ton, but they managed to half-carry, half-drag the box to the spot the driver had ordered, the drivers passing them, carrying the larger box with relative ease. Reaching their destination, they sat the box down, and Dib sat on it, panting.

"A little heavy, eh son?" A man said.

"You got that right." Dib replied. He looked up. A young officer wearing a neat blue uniform with red piping stood over him. Dib stood and saluted. "I mean, yes sir." The man laughed.

"It's all right." He said. "Thank you two for the help. I'll be repaying it when we're giving you infantry lads a few less rebs to shoot at."

"That's our job, sir…" A sergeant in a red cap commented. "Making the infantry's job easier."

"We're not really…infantry." Tak corrected. "We belong to General Hancock's staff. We're messengers, sir."

"Oh." The lieutenant replied. "Well give General Hancock my regards, young lady. Tell him that Cushing's Battery is set up and in position."

"Yes sir." Tak said. "Are you…Cushing, sir?" The lieutenant took off his hat and bowed slightly.

"Lieutenant Alonzo Cushing, Battery A, Fourth U.S. Artillery."

"Good to meet you, Lieutenant Cushing sir." Tak said. "I'm Corporal Tak, and this is Corporal Dib."

"Uh…huh." The Artillery commander said, slicking back his brown hair and replacing his hat. "Rather odd names, no offense. But I'm sure Alonzo isn't quite the common name either." Dib and Tak smiled. "Ah, well, you two had better be going. I'm sure it's nearly time to turn in for the night." He saluted, and the two corporals saluted the likable cannoneer. They jogged back toward the small house to get a little rest. They couldn't shake the feeling though, that tomorrow would be bad.

_I really don't know what the point of this chapter was, except maybe to spend a little time on the Union side during the night of the second day. I did get to introduce Lt. Cushing though. Cushing and his battery play into the events later on, and as an artillerist myself, I've been searching for a spot in this story to place some guns and spend a little time with some fellow red-legs (Civil War term for artillerymen). I'll probably introduce Colonel Alexander too in an upcoming chapter, seeing as he played a big part in day three. Well, I'd better stop before I go into a poetic tirade about Alexander's tactics, the skill of the Washington Artillery, my preference to howitzers over guns (true cannon), and all that…so, please review, and I'll try to get the next chapter or two up soon. _


	24. Chapter 24: The Third Morning

Chapter 24: The Third Morning

Dib and Tak awoke to a bugler trumpeting his instrument. Dib opened his eyes and sat upright as if the musical horn-blowing was an exploding shell. Tak glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow. Dib groaned and rubbed his face sleepily.

"Ugh." He complained. He shook his head quickly to try to wake up. "Is that…reveal or revel…whatever?"

"Reveille…and yes. So get up darling, before I throw a bucket of water on you." Dib stopped in mid-stretch and looked at Tak, wondering if she'd seriously do such a thing. Then he saw the edges of her lips curl up. He smiled.

"What time is it anyway?" The boy asked, looking out the window. It looked like it was still night.

"Dunno." Tak shrugged. Just then, the same friendly officer of General Hancock's staff that had given them food the evening before, happened by. "Excuse me, sir…" Tak hailed. "What time is it?"

"About 4:30, miss." He said with a nod. "You two want some coffee?"

"No thank you." Tak said.

"Yes I want some please!" Dib blurted out. The officer laughed.

"I'll forage you a cup. Hancock doesn't need you right now but you two ought to make yourselves seen about headquarters."

"Yes sir." The two replied. The officer hurried off and returned with a metal cup full of warm, strong coffee. Dib took it, thanked the officer, and drank the brew down quickly.

"Whew…man." Dib commented, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "That's about the strongest coffee I've ever heard of." Suddenly, the sound of distant gunfire pealed in the stillness. Dib leapt up and looked around. "Maybe we're under attack…" He gasped. "My rifle…where…"

"Calm down, Dib." Tak said calmly, standing, stretching and placing her kepi on her head. "It's some distance off."

"Oh." Dib said, feeling a little better. He looked around, and found his jacket and pulled it on. He put on his kepi, and buckled his belt around his waist, making sure to add the box of cartridges for his new rifle. He slung the weapon on his back and the two walked outside, where many of the soldiers seemed oblivious to the sound of a small battle a short distance away. They were busy frying salted pork in skillets, and making coffee in pots over their campfires. Nearby, a large group of soldiers was standing in formation with a high-ranking sergeant screaming at them to 'wake up and act like soldiers'. An officer, probably the commander of the company or regiment, was nearby, leaning on a tree lazily, watching with a smile. A stern looking man with a short beard, a general as Tak discerned from the single gold star on each shoulder, approached. The officer at the tree suddenly stood as straight as his leaning-post and saluted.

"Are the green recruits taking to drill accordingly, captain?" The general asked, folding his arms behind him.

"Yes sir, General Webb." The officer replied. "My sergeant-major is doing a fine job."

"Ah." General Webb said, nodding slowly. "Hard to show new recruits how to be proper soldiers with their company commander resting under a tree like an old grandmother." The captain looked wide-eyed at General Webb a moment. Webb motioned with his head. "Take command of your company, captain." He said expectantly.

"Yes sir!" The captain saluted. Dib and Tak moved on, searching for General Hancock, and somebody to tell them what was going on off to their left rear. They soon got an answer, as Hancock appeared riding toward them with a flag-bearer and another orderly. The flag of Hancock's second Corps, a blue pennant with a white Maltese cross, and a red '2' in the center, flapped in the wind. Hancock spied his two young messengers and came to a halt. Dib and Tak saluted their commander, and Hancock saluted soldierly.

"Good morning." Hancock greeted cheerfully.

"Good morning, General." Tak replied. "We were looking for you, sir. What's happening on the other side of the hill over there?"

"Ah, a slight engagement between our Eleventh Corps and part of an enemy corps. Not to worry though. Last I heard, Ruger was holding out. I'm afraid it may be a diversionary move though."

"A diversionary move, sir?" Dib asked, still unfamiliar with army terms.

"They're trying to distract us into thinking they're attacking one place…" Tak explained, "So they can attack another."

"Well put." Hancock smiled. "Walk with me." He began to ride at a trot with Dib and Tak walking next to his horse. "They attacked our left flank yesterday, and saw us reinforce there." Dib began to remember Little Round Top and Chamberlain's charge, and wondered how Colonel Chamberlain was doing. "They also hit us in the wheat field down there, so they've felt out our strength all along the line. Now, they're attacking our right flank, but not en masse." Hancock stopped his horse and stared toward the sound of the action. The sound of cannons firing rolled like thunder. "It has me troubled."

"What do you think will happen, general?" Dib asked, glancing out over the field toward the enemy positions apprehensively. Hancock sighed, and clicked his tongue, urging his mount into a slow gait again. "That I do not know, young man. I believe when they do attack, they will probably try to overwhelm our center. Right here." Tak looked around at the line of regiments, the batteries of cannon pointing toward the enemy. She looked out over the field, which now seemed a little wider. It looked impossible. No army would try to charge across a field like this…not toward such a strong enemy position. It was inconceivable. Maybe General Hancock was just being paranoid. Tak looked back up to her commander, seated in the saddle like a knight of old. He was an excellent general, and he knew his craft. But could he be right? Hancock stopped his horse and climbed off. He walked to the low stone wall, and leaned against the tall wheel of a large cannon, looking out over the field.

"Well, Lo is out there." The general said, almost to himself. Dib and Tak came to stand beside Hancock.

"Your friend?" Dib asked sympathetically.

"Mm." Hancock answered. "I saw the flags earlier of Pickett's Division. I heard that Lo Armistead is commanding a brigade under Pickett."

"Pickett…" Tak whispered, thinking about the name, and where she had heard it before. She glanced at Dib. He was trying to mask a look of horror. She remembered: Dib had said something about Pickett their first day here. 'He leads a charge and everybody in it dies or something…' Was that what he'd said?

"The cruel irony of this war," Hancock said, turning away from the meadow below. "Best friends, looking at each other from a mile away, made enemies by a war between brothers." He sighed again. "Well, you two care to run some dispatches to General Meade for me?"

"We would be happy to, sir." Tak replied, her mind turning over the possibility that if Dib was right, her commander's best friend could be killed before this battle was over…and maybe Hancock too. The general handed her a bunch of papers, folded in half. "We'll get them there as fast as we can." Tak said. Hancock smiled.

"I have no doubts about your abilities. Now off with you." The two jogged off toward the house General Meade was using as his headquarters, Tak tucking the papers into her jacket's inside pocket.

"Dib," She said gravely. "Please tell me you were only guessing about this Pickett. Tell me you could have been wrong." Dib looked at Tak sadly.

"Tak…that's like the only thing I remember from history class about this battle…Pickett's Charge. A big charge, and like most of the people involved in it died."

"Dib, this is really bad, you know that?!" Tak exclaimed.

"I know!" Dib cried. "I don't want General Hancock to die, or Colonel Chamberlain, or General Buford. I don't want General Hancock's friend to die either! I just want it to end! I want everyone to stop killing each other, and just learn to _live_ with each other's differences!" They stopped, and Tak listened to Dib. She had never seen such a change in somebody like she had Dib in the last two days. War had made him wise beyond his years, it seemed. "So many good people have died already, and I can't stop thinking about it, Tak. All the sons, the dads, the brothers, all the friends. They're _dead_, and what does it accomplish?"

"They died fighting for what they believed in." Tak said. "And they believed enough in their cause to die for it." She spoke, but for some reason the words sounded hollow to her, meaningless.

"And will anyone remember them, or why they died?" Dib asked. "I mean, like look at what I knew about this war. What people from my time knew about it. Nothing! Like these people didn't matter anymore, like their lives and their deaths were some stupid fact in a school textbook that had nothing to do with them. But this war has _everything_ to do with them. These people are dying for _them_, Tak…for _us_. They're dying so that people in the future can live in a world that they are trying to make better." Tak hugged Dib. He wrapped his arms around her.

"Dib, I swear to you that we're gonna get through this, okay?" She whispered. "And when we do, we will never forget these men, and what they did here." Dib nodded. "We'll build monuments, we'll write books, we'll do whatever it takes to see that they are remembered." Dib sniffled, and pulled away.

"Yeah." He whispered. "We can't let the world forget…"

"Now come on, my philosopher." Tak said. "We have these messages to deliver."

_And so at last, the third day has begun, and to you who know your history, I'm sure you've been waiting on day three for the last 20 some-odd chapters. What will happen? Will The trio of time travelers survive the battle? Will their being at Gettysburg change the course of history? What will become of Hancock and Armistead? You will just have to wait to find out. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen problems, I can only post at the local library, so my chapters will not be coming as quickly as they once did, but rest assured, I will try to get the next installment up as soon as I can. So until then, please give me your input or questions. Until next chapter, cheerio._


	25. Chapter 25: The Plan of Attack

Chapter 25: The Plan of Attack

_Finally it has arrived. The moment of all moments. Though this is a short chapter, I have tried to present it in such a way that does justice to the moment that Lee decides what his plan of attack will be. I hope you like it._

Zim yawned as he stepped into the front room of the house that Lee was utilizing as the headquarters of the Army of Northern Virginia. Irkens rarely needed sleep, but for some reason, Zim felt really comfortable resting on the long couch-like-thing in the room General Lee had given him, and had gotten a few hours of sleep. He had forced himself to sleep only as long as necessary however, and now he looked around in the morning light for his commander. The general was not in the room. He walked out onto the porch. Something was definitely going on, so it seemed. There were officers milling around, and an odd sort of feeling in the air. The day was already growing hot and stagnant, and Zim sighed. How could it be so hot all the time?

"Excuse me…sergeant?" Zim asked. A burly man turned and nodded his head. "Do you know where General Lee is?"

"Ah, yeah, ummm…" The man said, thinking. "He went that-a-ways a few minutes ago, him and General Longstreet, a ridin off to talk. You might still catch up with 'em if ya hurry."

"Thank you." Zim said. The sergeant nodded, and Zim ran off in search of the generals. It seemed that the man had pointed him in the direction of the large building with the round thing on top, and slightly forward, toward the enemy. Zim wondered what the generals could be doing so far forward. Observing the enemy strength? But why? Zim remembered the awful defeat the evening before, and the loss of so many men. He remembered General Hood, whom he had heard did not have to have his arm cut off after all, but would never be able to use it again. Could General Lee be thinking about disengaging, about leaving? It seemed that Longstreet wanted to do that, but Zim couldn't conceive of General Lee ever retreating. He came out onto a field, amongst what seemed like an endless line of cannons. There was Lee and Longstreet, standing near one of the enormous guns. Longstreet had his binoculars out, and seemed to be talking seriously with General Lee. Zim hurried up.

"General Lee, sir." Zim said, saluting. "Sorry about my oversleeping, and sorry if I'm interrupting anything, sir." Lee gave him a kind smile.

"Not at all." The grey-bearded general said. "You may stay. General Longstreet and I were just observing the enemy line." He turned back to Longstreet, who was gazing toward the long ridge across the field. "Do you see what I was meaning, general?" Longstreet lowered his glasses and sighed. "We attacked him on right, then on his left. His flanks are well defended and reinforced. Which means the weakest part of the line must be there, in the center of that ridge." Zim peered out across the expanse of flat land toward the hill. He could see small flags on the rise in the distance. What was Lee talking about?

"Sir, I do not believe they may be as weak there as you hope." Longstreet finally said. Lee didn't answer for a moment. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something. "Sir, if we stay here, we have to attack, but they have the high ground."

"I understand that, general." Lee said. "And I do believe that if we hit them in the center, their line will falter there. Then, once the enemy is cut in half, we can rout them as we have done before." Zim now began to understand Lee's plan: Hit the Yankees in force right in the center of their line, where they wouldn't be expecting it. Then came the strategy. "Colonel Alexander is commanding this entire line of artillery. His guns will be used to break up their lines, and hopefully drive most of their cannon off of those hills. After the feu en farve, then it will be up to you general. You have Pickett's division now, and I will give you Pettigrew and Trimble as well. That would give you close to…15,000 men I believe."

"Yes sir…" Longstreet said. Zim could detect the apprehensiveness in his voice again.

"With 15,000 men, under your command sir, I have no doubt that we will take that hill." Longstreet stared at the ridge in silence a few moments, and Zim felt compelled to look upon it as well. It seemed further off now. It seemed like a great mountain in the distance, and though Zim had absolute faith in his general, he was beginning to grow nervous about the plan as well.

"General Lee, sir…" Longstreet finally said, breaking Zim out of his trance. "May I speak frankly?"

"Of course general."

"I have been an officer in this army since Mexico, as you know. We have all won and lost battles, and you know that I have always had an eye for good ground."

"Yes sir." Lee agreed.

"Well sir…I do not believe that there were ever 15,000 men under God that could take that hill. I do believe that if we execute such a charge…" Longstreet blinked and sighed, as if unable to continue.

"I know your quality as a commander." Lee said. That is why I chose you to command this assault, If anyone can take that hill, it is you, Peter." Longstreet nodded, but he had a faint sadness in his eyes. "This war has lasted longer than I think anyone of us could have thought possible. And more men…more friends have fallen than we could have ever wanted. We have a chance here to end it. We will break the enemy here, and maybe tomorrow, it will be finished." Longstreet nodded again. "Sir, we will take that hill."

"Yes sir." Longstreet said. Zim stared wide-eyed. So this was it. There was going to be a huge battle, a battle that Lee wanted to be the last. The air seemed to get thicker, heavier. Could it be done? Could 15,000 of these brave warriors, even under the leadership of such great commanders as Lee and Longstreet, and the regal cavalier Pickett attack a position like that and win? Zim felt light-headed, and he knew somehow that no matter how this battle ended, everything would change.


	26. Chapter 26: Zim's Devotion

Chapter 26: Zim's Devotion

_After this chapter, I want you my readers to search your own hearts and ask yourself what you would do in the positions of Zim, Dib and Tak. Would you be willing to fight and die for a cause greater than yourself? I think that is why we're drawn to the Civil War. The men who died did so for something more than their own reasons (usually), and in doing elevated themselves unknowingly to the height of what it is to be an American, to be a true hero. Read on, and please review._

Longstreet seemed a little more quiet and somber than usual on the ride back to headquarters. Zim wondered if the broody general still believed that the attack would fail. There were so many cannons, and the men looked so eager to fight. Their fortitude and willingness to fight and die for their leader elevated them in Zim's mind far above any humans he had known before this adventure. They weren't that much different from Zim's race. He looked up at Lee, the tired, kind old man who was a god of war in living flesh and grey wool. No, these were not creatures like Irkens. Irkens fought, but only for more land, for more power. They fought for the expansion of their race's influence. What these men fought for with the same tenacity was something greater, something Zim had never even contemplated before. These were no Irkens, and Zim felt humbled just to be in their presence. He was one of them now, and he knew that if he must, he would die for his fellow soldiers, for his country, for General Lee.

"Then I leave it to you, sir." The old man spoke. Zim looked up as Longstreet nodded. "I believe this battle will determine the course of the war." Again, Longstreet nodded lightly.

"Whatever happens, sir…" Longstreet replied, "…it will determine the course of history." This time, it was Lee who nodded solemnly. Zim felt it too. This battle would be one for the books. It seemed that both armies were here, and this may be the final clash of a great war that Zim had missed out on up to now.

"Sir," General Lee finally said. "God's grace be upon you." With that, he saluted. Longstreet returned the salute, a gesture that was almost a physical seal between the two great commanders that today a great battle would be fought.

"General Lee, sir?" Zim asked.

"Yes, young sir?" He replied.

"My general…" Zim didn't know what to say. He felt choked up. He had to be in the attack, and he didn't know why. "Sir, I ask permission to take part in this attack." There, he'd said it. He wanted a chance to fight with the brave confederate soldiers for his brothers in arms and his adopted country. Admitting it felt like he was now truly one of them. It felt good, better than Zim had ever felt in his life.

"I would prefer you not endanger yourself…" Lee began.

"Sir, please." Zim interrupted. Lee patiently let him talk. "I never knew…I mean…" He sighed. "I would not be able to stand back and watch them fight, sir. This war, this country…it all means so much to me now. I must help them win. If we take that hill, I want to be there, waving your flag on top of it, and if we lose…" He looked at Longstreet a second, and again, the disturbing thought of failure was there. "…then I will go down as a soldier."

"If that is the measure of your conviction," Lee said with a slight but proud smile that made Zim feel even better inside. "Then I cannot deny you your honor." Zim smiled with pleasure. "You may accompany General Longstreet, who will place you in the brigade and regiment where he feels you may serve the best."

"Thank you, my general!" Zim beamed, saluting. "I won't let you down, sir." Lee saluted back.

"I never had that doubt." With that, the general rode off toward the cozy little house. Longstreet watched him leave, then took out a cigar. He bit down on it and lit it with a match. Drawing in a mouthful of smoke, he looked lost in thought for a few moments. He blew out the blue-grey smoke and turned to Zim.

"You really want to fight, son?" He asked.

"Yes sir." Zim replied. Longstreet made a small grunt.

"Come on, I must talk with Colonel Alexander."

"Yes sir." Zim said again. He walked beside Longstreet, who kept his horse at a slow gait, probably for Zim's benefit. They were again among the many big cannons that sat in a long line, deadly metal Cyclops, glowering imposingly across the field. A younger man with a dark brown beard rode up on horseback, and saluted General Longstreet with a grin.

"Hot day, isn't it sir?" The man asked. Zim noticed that his collar was red with three stars upon it, and his grey coat was trimmed in red piping. His cap was also red and grey. Zim deduced that red was the color of artillery.

"Almost like Mexico." Longstreet replied.

"Ah." The man said. "I wasn't there, general, but I will take your word on it."

"You probably were too young to do us any benefit anyhow." Longstreet said with a slight grin.

"Fortunately experience is the real teacher of men and not age, sir." The officer said with a smile. Zim presumed they were making quips about the artillery officer's age. He looked quite a bit younger than Longstreet, who was still young compared to Lee. He was perhaps 25…30?

"I do hope you have plenty of ammunition, colonel." General Longstreet said. So this was Colonel Alexander, the commander of the army's artillery. To be a colonel at his age, he must be good, Zim thought.

"I do, sir. Enough for a sizable offensive, but not much more."

"Well, son…" Longstreet continued. "On my order, I want you to direct your guns there on that ridge. I want every gun here to fire on their positions, and try to remove their artillery from the crest of those hills."

"Yes sir…" Alexander said.

"Then the men will move out of the trees in formation. I want you to keep the enemy suppressed, and give my men time to move across the field…as much time as possible, understood?"

"Yes sir." Alexander replied, looking across the field as if trying to comprehend the scope of the plan.

"Now Porter," Longstreet added. Colonel Alexander looked back at the general, then to his cannons and back to the enemy positions. To Zim, Alexander's eyes seemed to be glowing with a dark fire, and they moved about as if he were taking in everything, the field, the air, even the number of nails in each cannon. "I don't think I have to tell you how important your job is to this attempt."

"No sir, I understand completely." Colonel Alexander replied. "I will try my damndest to move every single enemy gun off of that hill, sir."

"Good. Any questions?"

"No sir." Alexander said. They saluted, and Longstreet rode off, with Zim close beside his commander. They moved back into the shade of the trees, and Longstreet dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to Major Sorrel, who had just ridden up.

"You really want to be in this attack?" Longstreet asked Zim again.

"Yes sir, my general…why?"

"You see that field out there?" Longstreet asked.

"Yes." Zim said.

"In a couple hours, that field is going to be filled with 15,000 men…all moving in perfect formation toward the center of that ridge there." He sighed. "Of course our artillery will be firing as fast as possible, but so will theirs. 15,000 men across nearly a mile of open field, toward cannons, toward probably 5 corps of men with muskets on high ground. It's so clear…painfully, like a nightmare I can't wake up from. "

"Sir?" Zim whispered. Longstreet looked at Zim, and in his eyes was sadness.

"Zim…son, I think this attack is going to fail. And that means that many…too many of the men who will make this charge…won't be coming back."

"I…I know…sir." Zim whispered.

"And you still want to make that charge." It was more of a statement than a question.

"I do." There was a silence.

"Then I will place you with General Armistead. You've met General Armistead."

"Yes sir, I have." Zim replied. "He is the one with the friend on the enemy side, I think."

"Mm." Longstreet answered. "You will be in his brigade."

"Thank you." Zim said. "May I find the general?" Longstreet gave a nod, before turning back toward the hills in the distance. Zim watched him for a moment, then turned and began to walk to where he knew General Pickett's division was positioned. There was a heaviness, an oppressive feeling in the air, and Zim felt it and knew that before this day was out, he would be on that hill, victorious or dead.

_Now a word from the author: Hello my loyal readers. The build up is getting intense, is it not? And my inability to post more than once every week or two must be killing you as readers. Those of you who know the real history know exactly what is to be, and that must be like seeing a huge gift under the old Christmas tree, knowing what's probably inside, and not being able to open it for a week or two, eh? Well, I'll do my best to get the next chapters up soon. I have to post at the local library (not very local, it's like 30 minutes away), and planting time is almost here. So somewhere between my Indian crafts business, my livestock, planting my gardens, and the two upcoming reenactments (I just made corporal, company quartermaster, and I'm teaching all the officers and NCO's proper drill, so I'm apparently the D.I. too), I will be writing more of the story you've all come to love. After the completion of this fic, I will be beginning work on my first real published work, a diary-like novel about life as a hardcore Civil War reenactor. Anyway, I've taken up enough of your time, so until next chapter, please stay tuned. Cheerio, my friends. -Doc _


	27. Chapter 27: To Be a Soldier

Chapter 27: To Be A Soldier

General Hancock rode slowly along the line, inspecting the placement of the cannon. Behind him rode his color sergeant, holding aloft the blue flag of the corps. Hancock had found a small horse to suit the purpose, and on it sat Dib and Tak, riding alongside the flag bearer with Tak at the reins. Dib felt a great sense of importance and duty, and realized that he had never felt like this before in his life. Sure, his pursuits of the paranormal gave him something to strive for, and something to take pride in, but that seemed now like more of a small _personal_ goal, and his accomplishments seemed petty. Now he was involved in something that was more than him, and he felt constantly that the eyes of everyone, from the other soldiers to the great General Hancock were always upon him, watching him, expecting him to do the best he could.

He could almost understand why Tak liked being a soldier. It was scary, sometimes downright terrifying, and he had been closer to death the last couple days than he had ever thought possible. The things he had seen ranged from the harsh and bitter to the grotesque and unbearable, but now he felt a great strength had come from it all. Despite all the bad, he actually felt good. And here he was, not even old enough to drive, and he was called a hero by a general, taking part in the greatest battle in U.S. history, and sitting on a horse with his arms wrapped around the girl of his dreams. That was _really_ good. He caught the faint smell of her so close to him. Yes, _very_ good.

"General Hancock sir!" Greeted a familiar voice.

"Ah, good day Cushing." Hancock replied. Dib and Tak looked over to see Lieutenant Cushing saluting General Hancock. Cushing noticed them and bowed courteously.

"And good day to you, young soldiers of Hancock's staff." He said smiling.

"Hello Lieutenant Cushing sir." Tak replied with a smile.

"You have met then I see." Hancock spoke.

"Ah yes sir. These two helped me get my limbers up last evening, to which I'm most grateful." Hancock turned in the saddle and smiled at the two, then looked back to Cushing.

"Yes, these two seem to be everywhere they need to be at precisely the right time. I'm quite glad they're on my staff." Dib felt embarrassed by the compliment, and even Tak almost blushed.

"Well sir, if they ever decide to become artillerymen, please send them my direction." Cushing said grinning.

"Heh. I will do just that." Hancock said. "Good day." He rode on, and as they passed, Tak smiled at Cushing, and Dib gave him a salute. They soon reached the spot where the day before, Sickles had been posted before he had decided to move off to start a battle of his own. Tak felt the disdain for the fool once again. She felt the watch in her pocket and remembered…

"You two wouldn't mind…" Hancock began. Suddenly, there was a loud thud from across the field, followed by another, then another. A shell exploded a hundred yards away. The horses spooked and shifted a bit, but the small group reined them in as the distant explosions continued. "Damn." Hancock said.

"What are they doing?!" Dib cried out as another shell exploded a little closer than the first.

"The reb artillery…" Hancock said, his eyes wide. "They're going to attack soon. We had better get back to the center of our line. Come!" They wheeled their mounts, and made quickly for the center of Hancock's corps as shells landed seemingly everywhere. The cannon fire from the enemy continued, and it seemed they had a hundred guns, all pointed toward them.

"To the wall!" Hancock shouted, riding along the line. "To the wall men and stay low! Ready the guns, but hold your fire!" Tak watched the general, oblivious to the flying death all around him, shouting orders to his men from horseback amid the explosions. It reminded her so much of Reynolds, and she could see now how these men could have been close friends. If Lo Armistead was much of the same, then the Rebels had at least one good commander.

"Tak?" Dib asked, holding tightly to her. "Shouldn't we like…get down or something?" Tak clenched her teeth as a shell exploded close by. They dismounted, and the color sergeant waiting for a chance to do the same, climbed off of his horse as well. Hancock wheeled about and rode up to them.

"General Hancock!" Tak called. "Please get down sir! This army can't spare another good general." Hancock inhaled deeply and looked across the field.

"There are times when a corps commander's life does not count." He said gravely. Several of the soldiers nearby looked up in awe when he spoke. The words hit like boulders, and the two knew that they were destined to be remembered. Tak smiled and looked at Dib. She had a gleam in her eye. He nodded. She stepped up into the stirrup and quickly mounted their horse. Dib grabbed her hand and climbed on.

"Alright!" Tak exclaimed in a defiant tone. "We're with you, general!"

"Then come on if you're coming!" Hancock called, riding quickly toward a battery of cannons. "Commence firing!" He called, riding by. "Train your guns on theirs and fire away!" He yelled at another.

"Yeah!" Tak exclaimed. "General Hancock's orders, pour it on them!" She screamed to a cannon crew as they galloped past. Her heart was pounding, shells were exploding all around, and she felt more alive than ever. Tak had wanted to be a soldier he entire life. She had trained relentlessly to be an elite warrior. Now, she realized, this was the moment. This was what she had prepared for all these years, and as the first of the cannon on the ridge started pounding out fiery doom to the enemy artillery and she felt the cool wind in her hair, she realized her dream, and it was good.

_So it has begun. The fight for the third day, what has been called "the high-water mark of the confederacy". What happens next? Unfortunately, you'll just have to wait a few days to find out. I'm currently working on the next chapter, and will try to get it up as soon as possible, so have patience. Until then my loyal readers, cheerio. _


	28. Chapter 28: We Few, We Happy Few

Chapter 28: We Few, We Happy Few

_Well, after nearly two weeks of being too busy to write anything, I've finally managed to find some down time to get another chapter up. Honest, I've been busy! I put up a couple hundred yards of barbed wire fencing, nearly had my hand taken off trying to corral a stallion, I got a disc plow, and put a new floor in the rec room of my house, not to mention the first reenactment of the season (I got shot three times, yaayyy!), so you see why I haven't been able to write much. But ahhh…farm living is the life for me. Anyway, enjoy the latest chapter!_

When Zim arrived among the men of General Armistead's Brigade, he found his new comrades eager for the battle they would soon be embroiled in. Then men, like Zim seemed to be contemplating the work to soon be done. Some read from small bibles underneath trees. Others shared pipes or cigars with each other. A few stood silently meditating, looking toward the hill in the distance. To Zim, they all looked to be grizzled veterans of death and killing. He felt again the consequence of his decision weigh on him. He could be killed in this. He could die in this ancient time, and never get home. What then? What about his mission? Zim looked around at the soldiers readying for the coming fight. This was his mission now, and these were his brothers. And he was willing to die for his mission, and for these men.

"Ah, Zim…am I correct?" Asked a familiar voice. Zim turned to see General Armistead.

"Yes sir." Zim said, saluting. Armistead returned the salute solemnly. "Sir, I requested to take part in the coming battle. General Longstreet gave me permission."

"I see…" The general said, nodding. "You're sure you want to be in this? You're staff, son…you could sit it out and no one would think less of you."

"I think…General Armistead…" Zim replied, "…that I would think less of me, sir."

"That I understand." Armistead replied. He sighed. "I wondered whether I could actually do it…" Zim was looking at him questioningly. Armistead smiled tragically. "Three years ago…when this war first started…God, it feels like an eternity…"

"Yes sir." Zim whispered.

"We were at Winfield's house…Winfield Hancock. It was me, Win…Old Albert Johnston, George Pickett, Dick Garnett… a going away party you see." He sighed. "Friends, all of us, off to fight in this war, some of us on each side." He sighed again. "Sorry, son. I just needed to tell someone this."

"It's okay, my general." Zim said.

"Well…it was…heartbreaking for us, at the end. I took Winfield by the shoulders, and I said to him 'Hancock…goodbye. You have no idea what this has cost me, and I pray that I be struck dead before I ever have to fight you, my old friend.' Those words." Zim could see that he was holding back tears. "That was the last I saw him, and I'd hoped that this war would end before we found ourselves looking at each other across the field. Zim, son?"

"Yes sir?"

"He is right over there." Armistead pointed toward the center of the ridge. "And…well. My apologies."

"It's quite alright, General Armistead." Zim replied.

"You um…you don't seem to have any weapons." Zim realized his folly at having forgotten to ask General Longstreet for a rifle.

"No…I…well…" Zim stammered.

"Hm." Armistead thought. "Lieutenant?" A large, barrel-chested man appeared. "Will you please get my spare pistol from my trunk? Make sure it's loaded, and give it to this young man."

"Yes sir." The man replied, and moved off to fetch the gun.

"Zim? I want you to stay near me when we make the charge."

"Yes sir, I will sir." Zim said. Just then a cannon fired some distance away. Another soon followed, then another and another. General Pickett rode up, and General Armistead walked over to speak with him, leaving Zim standing under the old tree. His mind drifted to Dib and Tak. Is it possible? Could they really be on the other side, waiting for him like Hancock and Armistead?

"So…you begged Old Longstreet into letting you climb the insurmountable hill as well, eh?" A voice called. Zim turned to see a tall, skinny man wearing nothing that resembled a soldier's uniform, but carrying a rifle walking toward him. "I don't blame you, I had to do it too."

"Um…who are you?" Zim asked the stranger.

"Ah." The man said, removing his wide brimmed hat and bowing theatrically. "You may call me Harrison, everyone in the army does, though on the stage, I may be Hamlet." He smiled.

"Um…uh-huh…" Zim said to the strange man. "So, you aren't a soldier?"

"A scout." Harrison replied. "Just a humble actor doing my part for my country."

"If you're a scout, why are you doing this?" Zim asked.

"Well, why are you?" Harrison asked. He stood beside Zim and they looked toward the hill a moment. The sound of Confederate artillery continued to roar as the guns hurtled their fiery innards at the enemy. Then a new sound reached their ears. From across the field, there were several dull thuds, and small puffs of smoke could be seen.

"Hmm. We may want to get behind a tree…" Harrison said calmly. A moment later, a shell exploded somewhere off to the left. Another landed fifty yards behind them. Zim remembered the enemy artillery fire the day before, the Hell of flying steel and fire, and he cringed. Harrison clutched his shoulder, and it felt a little better to have someone near. "We few…we happy few…" The actor/scout muttered.

"Eh?" Zim asked. Harrison smiled defiantly at the puffs of smoke in the distance.

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers." He said louder. "For any man who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. "

"Yes." Zim said. A shell exploded nearby, but Harrison didn't stop his recitation.

"If we are marked to die, we're now to do our country loss. But if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor!"

"Yes!" Zim said, feeling courage build in him.

"Gentlemen of England now abed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whilst any speaks who fought with us upon Saint Crispin's Day!"

"Mr. Harrison," Zim said. "Let's make the charge, and revel in glorious victory on top of that hill."

"I couldn't have put it any better." Harrison replied. "I must be off now. I will see you on the hill." He bowed again, and walked off amid the smoke and concussion of the shells, and Zim hoped that the strange man would survive the charge. The lieutenant returned with the pistol and handed it to Zim before hurrying off. Zim looked at the weapon. It was a fancy revolver with an engraved cylinder. He imagined that it must have cost a good deal of money.

"You know how to use that?" Armistead asked, rejoining Zim. Zim wondered how people kept sneaking up on him like that.

"I've seen it done. I'm sure I can figure it out." The Irken replied, omitting the fact that he'd previously fired weapons light-years ahead of the black powder firearms that surrounded him. The irony was not lost on him however, that no matter how primitive or advanced a weapon, the end result was the same.

"Well, it's a LeMat, so you have 9 shots in the cylinder, and a spare barrel loaded with shot. I trust you will indeed figure it out. Now I have to form up the men, so come with me." Zim obeyed, walking alongside the general as he passed along the front of the line, where several subordinate officers stood at attention. "Gentlemen, form your battalions and prepare to march!" Armistead ordered. The officers immediately set to bringing the soldiers into formation. Armistead took off his hat and wiped his forehead. Zim looked back toward the enemy.

"We few…" He whispered, "We…happy…few…"

_The suspense is building terribly, is it not? I wanted to add Harrison into the story, as he was the scout that told Longstreet that the Union forces were near, and was at least partially responsible for the battle being fought where it was. I'm also supposed to be distantly related to him, so I figured I'd give him a cameo. I will try to keep the chapters coming now at a rate of two a week, and I anticipate that within the next 3-4 weeks, this story shall be at a close. But rest assured that the historical fic gravy train is far from derailed after this! I have a Naruto fic based on "The Last Samurai", An Invader Zim fic styled after "The Patriot", and a reenactment of the gunfight at the OK Corral starring the Invader Zim cast planned for the future. Enough babble though, I must work on more chapters, so stay tuned in, and I'll keep posting. _


	29. Chapter 29: Like a Dress Parade

Chapter 29: Like a Dress Parade

_I suppose I may have mentioned it before, but the next few chapters will be increasingly shorter, as I have to switch from POV to POV as the battle progresses. I don't want to leave out any of the action or drama as the story unfolds. I hope you enjoy, and I look forward to your feedback during this portion of the story. I'll stop yammering now, and let you get on with reading._

On the ridge, Dib and Tak sat on their horse next to General Hancock, who was leaned forward on his mount, a pair of binoculars to his eyes. The massive artillery battle had been raging for what seemed like hours, with the big guns on both sides showing no signs of stopping as deadly projectiles flew back and forth across the field. Now Dib and Tak heard what was probably an answer to countless prayers; the enemy cannons were slowing down their fire.

"Wow." Dib sighed gratefully. "I think it's almost over. That was…man."

"It's not over yet, son." Hancock replied. "Look…at the edge of the trees yonder!" Dib and Tak squinted as they looked out toward the enemy position. They could see small flags in the distance, and lines of men forming in a long line in front of the wooded area that stretched opposite the hill.

"Wha…" Tak exclaimed, "They're preparing to attack?!"

"Yes ma'am." Hancock said, never taking his glasses from his face or moving an inch. "I believe that is their intent."

"But…but…" Dib stammered, "we're on a hill…with all these cannon…they can't!"

"They can, Dib." Tak corrected. "And they are."

"Just watch." Hancock said. Now the Union cannon were ceasing their fire, and an eerie calm settled over the field for a short moment. The three sat in silence, watching as the men, thousands of them, what looked to Dib and Tak like at least 15,000 or more, formed neat formations. They could hear the faint, distant tapping of drums, and the entire mass of enemy soldiers began moving toward them slowly.

"My god…" Hancock gasped, almost breathless. "Look at that…like a dress parade! My god! It's beautiful!"

_What did you think? I don't know if that's what Hancock actually said or not, but I imagine he was at least thinking it. I've stood there, about where the three were watching from, and looked out toward those trees. I could almost imagine 15,000 men coming out of those trees in formation, and it was awe inspiring just to think about._ _Anyway, I have another reenactment this weekend, and from what I hear, we'll have somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 yankees, 100 rebs, and 10 cannon, plus mounted cavalry, not to mention it's going to take place in a historical village composed of houses, barns and a school all build in the 1840's. In other words, it's going to be close to the perfect reenactment, so be prepared for me to be waxing poetic about it for weeks to come. I will try to post two chapters a week as I promised, so you don't explode from anticipation. So until next time, have a good week, I'm gonna go shoot some Yankees with a 6 pound parrot rifle! Cheerio._


	30. Chapter 30: Zim's Finest Hour

Chapter 30: Zim's Finest Hour

_After a bit of a hiatus, I'm finally back. Sorry about the long wait my friends, but it's that time of the year when farm duties call that must be answered. I've been terribly busy with the first spring mowing of 3 acres (and you thought mowing the front yard was bad), and the planting of potatoes, tomatoes, onions, peppers , radishes, watermelon, and sweet delicious corn. Then there was the fiasco of the Battle of Hager's Farm, a Civil War reenactment that made me want to shoot a few people out of a siege mortar. For God's sake, it's a reenactment of a Civil War battle, a living history, not some damned dog and pony show, or a blasted popularity contest. God, it was worse than high school. I, the Indian Scout Corporal of the 10__th__ Ky. Artillery personally led a squad that captured a yankee cannon. Of that I am proud. The men from the 13__th__ Va. Were awesome. The rest of the battle was sub-par. But nonetheless, here I am, the farmer, living historian, and author you waited patiently for, and I will not deny you the rest of this story any longer. So here is the next chapter. Please review. _

…A few minutes earlier…

Zim stood beside General Armistead as the bearded commander looked upward at the sapphire blue sky. He closed his eyes and moved his lips as if speaking silently. Zim recognized the gesture…a prayer. He'd seen General Lee do it many times. It was the way humans spoke to or pleaded with their diety. 'God watches over this army.' Lee had said to Zim. In the short, impromptu spiritual moment, amid the noise and the tension of the battle that now threatened like a speeding cannonball, Zim looked up at the sky a moment and wondered if this God of the humans could watch over him too.

"General Armistead!" Came a call. Armistead and Zim turned as General Pickett rode up on his lean, excited horse. Armistead saluted, and Pickett saluted back. He looked down at Zim and nodded approvingly. "Men! Men, let no one forget today that you are Virginians!" He called to the large body of soldiers. He nodded to Armistead and rode off. Armistead faced his officers.

"Gentlemen!" He ordered. "Form your regiments!" He turned away and looked back toward the hill they would soon be charging up. "I'm sorry, Win." He said, almost in a whisper.

"I hope you see your friend up there." Zim finally said.

"I hope you see yours as well." Armistead said without even looking at Zim. "They're up there, son. Let us go to them."

"Let's go together." Zim said. "Sir." Armistead nodded and placed a hand on Zim's shoulder.

"Whatever happens son," He said. "Stay close to me."

"Yes sir." Zim replied. Armistead turned once more to his brigade of Lee's Army. He inhaled deeply, and drew his sword from its scabbard.

"Men of Virginia!" He called loudly, addressing the soldiers. "Remember, you fight for your homes! You fight for your country! For your families! Virginians…forward…MARCH!" Drummers beat out the tempo of a military march, and the brigade, with Armistead in front marched neatly forward. The beating of the drums resounded in Zim's head as he marched beside his commander, and he felt like he was part of something huge, possibly the biggest thing in the history of the planet. As they reached the tree line and stepped out onto the field, the rest of the army came into view, the regiments, the brigades, all marching in formation beside Armistead's brigade. Two brigades were in front of Armistead's men, and Zim could see the forms of the quiet General Garnett atop a dark colored horse ahead of one of the brigades. The large General Kemper atop another horse rode in front of the brigade directly in front. For the first time, Zim could see the army in all its might and glory. There were thousands of men here. Indeed, it seemed that the entire south had come here to fight this battle.

As they approached the line of cannons, the enormous guns fired a volley toward the hill. Every cannon fired, issuing forth a roar that shook the ground. Through the smoke they marched, with the cannoneers cheering them on. Past the guns, and onto the open field they continued, toward their destination. Zim was scared and elated at the same moment. This was it. It felt now like his entire life had been in preparation for this battle, for this very second of his existence. A whistling sound filled the air, and a shell exploded. Another. Then another. The enemy cannon had opened up, and Zim cringed as one exploded behind him. The screams, the horrible screaming of dying men…the acrid smell of smoke and dirt. Zim kept his eyes on the hill, drawing nearer with each step. The cannonballs and shells continued to land all around, some overshooting the army, some exploding in front, many finding targets for their destructive power. Through it all, Zim noticed the rock-solid expression of determination on Armistead's face as he walked in front of his men, his sword held out in front of him as if he alone were walking up the hill to face the enemy.

Zim had it all figured out. He was going up the hill with Armistead, and he was going to empty the pistol the general had given him, hopefully using each shot with effect. Then, he was going to pick up the first rifle he could find with bayonet fixed, and…that was as far as he could plan now, but hopefully it would work. A fence lie ahead, a simple fence made of split trees stacked into a short wall. It was a primitive barrier, but each second now was costly as the Yankee shells kept landing with fierce regularity. The men from Kemper and Garnett's brigades were already taking down rails, or scrambling over the wooden barricade. Shells blew out entire sections of the fence, carrying with them the lives of any nearby men. Then, in the eternity of a couple minutes, the brigades were past the fence, and it was their turn.

"Over the fence!" Armistead yelled. "Come on men, over the fence!" He himself climbed up on top of the rails for a moment and waved his sword in defiance of the enemy, and leapt down on the other side. Zim climbed the obstacle as fast as he could. Men were dying all around, but he tried not to think about that. They continued on, reforming the brigade as they made it over. Zim looked back. They were halfway across. Halfway to the hill.


	31. Chapter 31: Hold The Wall

Chapter 31: Hold the Wall

Dib and Tak stood side by side, watching the approach of the enemy army. Shells rained down into them, and still they kept coming. A wall of gray, flags flying high as they advanced closer and closer. The rebels were to the fence now, and the two watched breathlessly as they made it over the fence, the explosions and cannonballs tearing holes in their neat ranks.

"It's impossible…" Tak whispered. "It's…nobody…"

"They are, Tak." Dib whispered back. "They're coming, and we're gonna have to fight them."

"I know." Tak replied slowly, watching the enemy advance through the devastating fire.

"We're going to die…aren't we, Tak?" Dib asked. Tak noticed that there was no fear in the boy's voice as he asked the question. She glanced over at him. His eyes were locked on the approaching army, his face showing nothing short of determination. She smiled a little. He had become a soldier. He had become a man. Her man, and she loved him all the more.

"Yeah, probably." She replied. They met eyes. She smiled mischievously. Dib gave a wry grin.

"At least we're gonna die together." Dib said.

"And we won't make it easy on them." Tak replied.

"Nope."

"Young soldiers!" Hancock called. They turned to their commander, who still sat upon his horse like a painted general. "To the wall. They're coming and by God we're going to meet them! Help protect the wall by Cushing's Battery."

"Yes sir!" The two replied, saluting.

"Good. I hope to see you after the battle." He rode off again, giving orders down the line. Dib and Tak found themselves a spot behind the low stone wall, just off to the left of the last gun in the line of four cannons under the command of Lieutenant Cushing, cannons that were firing as fast as the cannoneers could load them. Cushing himself paced back and forth behind the guns, shouting orders.

"Canister! They're in canister range, give them the canister! Grape! For God's sake, pour it on them boys!" Cushing screamed, his sword in hand as he impatiently paced. They knelt down behind the small barrier and checked their weapons. They looked back at the field. The rebels were closer. They were coming all right, and Dib and Tak were ready for them. The enemy were firing an occasional shell onto the ridge, and one of these burst near Dib and Tak's position. They instinctively cringed, and dirt rained down on them. When they looked back, Lt. Cushing was laying on the ground. Several of his men were gathered around him. Tak hurried over.

"Lieutenant Cushing sir!" Tak cried out. He sat up, bleeding a bit from his right leg.

"Ah…young lady." He replied. He cleared his throat and shook off the dirt. "Just scraped me, that's all. Help me up, boys." The men helped Cushing to his feet. "Keep firing!" He commanded. "Keep it hot! I don't want to see any guns silent!"

"We're starting to run low on ammunition, sir!" A sergeant reported.

"Load anything. Shell, shot, solid. Keep them hot!" Cushing replied. He turned back to Tak. "I'm alright, young lady. You should get back to the wall." Tak nodded and ran back to the wall. The enemy was now within a couple hundred yards. She could begin to make out the color of their uniforms, the bayonets on their rifles, and the colorful battle flags. She cocked her rifle, and Dib did the same.

"I love you, Tak." Dib said.

"I love you, Dib." She replied. "You ready?"

"Do I have a choice?" Dib asked cynically. Tak smiled. She lay her rifle on the wall and sighted in on the approaching host. This was it.


	32. Chapter 32: Taking the Hill

Chapter 32: Taking the Hill

"You have to come quickly, Lo!" General Kemper yelled desperately from atop his horse. "For God's sake, they're firing at us from two sides…we won't be able to advance much more like this…"

"I'll come up at the double quick, just try to keep pressing forward, Jim. We have to make it up the hill!" Armistead replied vehemently. Kemper nodded hurriedly and galloped off. Zim watched the heavyset general leave, and felt as if he'd never see him again. He looked back to his commander as Armistead turned to his brigade.

"Men!" He yelled. "Forward! At the double time! Forward and give them the cold steel!" He broke into a run, and the men followed. Zim pulled the revolver from his belt, feeling the moment was near, and holding it in his right hand, he ran beside general Armistead toward the hill that despite its low elevation, was now looking down on them amid the fire and noise spewing forth from its summit. Closer and closer they ran, Zim's heart pounding in fear and determination. Kemper's brigade was falling apart in front of them now. There was no sign of the general, and his men were being torn to pieces by the enemy cannons, and the rifles of thousands of Yankees. Two shells exploded in the front ranks of Armistead's brigade, stalling the men for a moment. Zim heard the all too familiar whine of a bullet passing dangerously close, and it seemed the army would go no further.

"Virginians!" Armistead roared. Zim looked in wonder as the general took off his wide brimmed hat and impaled it upon his sword. Then holding his hat high, he screamed "Who will come with me?!" Armistead broke into a dead run toward the top of the hill. Zim sprinted beside his general, and the rest of the men, their courage renewed, charged up the slope. There were no commanders now. No officers. Every man knew what he was supposed to do. Every man was his own army as they ran screaming into the hell in front of them.


	33. Chapter 33:Valiant to the Last

Chapter 33: Valiant to the Last

Dib and Tak now fired again and again, reloading as quickly as they could. From their position on the wall, it looked as though the tide of rebels would overtake them like a flood. There was no time to speak now, and they knelt beside each other, knowing the other was there, watching out for them as they defended themselves and the wall. The enemy seemed to keep coming, an inhuman mass of grey and tan forms surging endlessly up the slope of the hill. The cannons of Lt. Cushing's battery continued to fire nearby. Men were falling dead and wounded while working the gun, only to be replaced by others, who would succeed in firing once or twice more before they too would fall. Cushing fell again, shot through the shoulder, but was soon on his feet again, screaming orders to the artillerymen.

"Tak! I think it's almost over!" Dib cried out. "Look! They're starting to leave!"

"Keep shooting Dib!" Tak replied, firing her rifle. The rebels who had been charging up the hill were no longer making a hard fight to get to the top. A few continued the suicidal task of walking up to the wall, only to be killed. General Hancock rode by, dispatching orders to all officers along the line. Tak saw him suddenly lurch, and fall off his horse, tumbling into the arms of an officer. A feeling of dread and horror ran through her, but there was no time to mourn. She turned back to the battle and gasped. "Dib! Look! It's not over yet!" A new mass of rebels were charging up the hill. The two fired at the same time into the approaching enemy.

"The last round!" A voice shouted. Tak looked to see the artillerymen of Cushing's battery decimated. Every soldier who had once manned a cannon was either dead, wounded or had left his post as the ammunition chests had run dry. Now the last round of the last cannon, crewed by the last of the men was being loaded. Cushing himself, bleeding and holding himself up with a rifle watched the line of grey warriors reach the wall directly in front of his gun.

"FIRE!" He bellowed. The cannon roared, and the scene in front of the weapon became an unmentionable mass of smoke, flame, and twisted bodies. 'Fire' was the last word Tak, Dib, or anyone would hear from Lieutenant Cushing. As soon as he gave the command, Tak cried out as the friendly, courageous officer fell dead with a wound in his head, valiant to the last. Tak loaded her gun, and fired again, tears streaming from her eyes. Beside her, Dib fired again, and watched as a bearded man in a brown uniform fell dead. They were almost upon them now, and finally reloaded, Dib prepared to fire another shot, when Tak grabbed his sleeve, and pulled him away. They ran past the cannons, and turned as the enemy broke over the wall.

Dib had been on Little Round Top, and remembered the last stand there by Colonel Chamberlain and his men. He had stayed because there was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Now, as more men in blue came up beside him and Tak, he knew he could run. He knew he could leave the fight if he wanted. He opened the breech of his rifle, and loaded a new round. He barely had to rationalize it. He would not run, he would stay. He would fight here and probably die because it was the only thing to do. He capped the gun and cocked it. In a second, he had figured it all out…Buford, Reynolds, Chamberlain, Hancock, they had all taught him something. Heroes weren't men with superpowers casually saving everyone in their path. They were ordinary human beings who in a fraction of a moment decided that there were things more important than their own lives. That they were willing to give everything for that cause that now gave him the strength to stand against inevitability, so that their families, their friends, and everyone that will come after them can have something better. He raised his rifle, took aim and fired.

Tak heard a bullet pass by her head. This was war. She remembered back to her younger days when she had dreamed of being a soldier, of being an Irken elite. Irken society had glorified war, and made the destruction of one's enemies a high honor. She now saw the humanity of it all. There was no glory here. That was all a lie. But there was something else…she was fighting for a completely different reason. She was fighting for love, for the brave, wonderful man standing beside her. She was fighting for duty, for the red, white and blue banner of the country she didn't quite understand, but knew it was worth fighting for. She was fighting because so many great men had already died protecting that country, men like General Reynolds and Lieutenant Cushing, and she fought for their honor, for their sake. She felt alive in battle, and it felt good, as bad as it really was. As Tak raised her rifle, she decided that she was going to stay alive too, and she and Dib would be together forever, whether in this age or their own. If not, she conjectured, she would at least go down fighting like an Irken, and lay beside Dib forever in a soldier's grave. She fired.


	34. Chapter 34: Aftermath

Chapter 34: Aftermath

They were over the wall. Zim felt a great hope as he saw the first of Armistead's men swarm over the enemy positions. Armistead stood upon the wall and waved his hat on his sword as his men surged forward. He hopped down, and began leading his men onward. The blue-coated soldiers were retreating, and as Zim mounted the wall right behind his general, it seemed that the hill was theirs. He fired his pistol, killing a yankee, feeling only remorse for the poor man. Another union soldier began grappling with one of Armistead's men, and Zim shot him in the back, the guilt of such an act striking him like the bullet he had just fired.

"Take the cannons men!" General Armistead yelled. He reached out and grasped the wheel of one of the large guns. Suddenly the general jerked backward.

"General?" Zim cried out. Armistead gasped and took a step backwards. Zim could see a crimson stream of blood trickling from the commander's shoulder. "General Armistead!" He screamed. Another round hit Armistead, and the general grabbed the cannon and slumped to the ground. Zim Held Armistead and looked toward the fighting. A new group of yankee soldiers was coming up out of the trees, and the men of Armistead's brigade began to fall. Zim fired his revolver toward the line of blue troops. He fired again and again, tears running down his cheeks. As the last round left the gun, Zim was sobbing. It was over. The confederates were dying all around him, and the battle was lost. All was lost. General Lee's great army was destroyed, and the brave General Armistead lay dying in his arms. As an officer knelt beside the fallen commander, Zim seized a rifle with a long bayonet fixed to the end, and ran toward the line where the last of his comrades were fighting and falling.

…

Dib and Tak charged forward with the rest of the union soldiers, meeting the line of rebels head on. Dib swung his rifle like a club, and Tak thrust forward with her musket, using the bayonet like a spear. A rifle went off at close range, and a soldier fell right beside Dib. An enemy soldier prepared to skewer Dib with his bayonet, but a soldier behind him fired, and the rebel fell dead. The enemy was weakening, and there were fewer and fewer of them each second. A bayonet flashed striking toward Dib like a deadly viper, and Tak knocked it aside. Dib prepared to strike with the butt of his rifle, but stopped inches from his assailant's head. Tak grabbed the gun and looked into the eyes of the rebel soldier who had attacked, and her heart skipped a beat. Zim.

Zim had charged into the throng of confederate soldiers, and made for the first yankee he could find. The battle was lost, and there was nothing left for him but to die at the hands of the enemy. To die with honor fighting for his country. He plunged forward with his bayonet, but the weapon was knocked aside. A yankee raised his rifle. 'This is it.' Zim thought. 'Strike me, and at least try to kill me, you filthy blue-coated beast.' But there was no blow. Zim looked into the face of his enemy, and his eyes grew wide with disbelief.

"Dib…Tak?" He sputtered.

"Zim?" They asked in unison. For a moment, they all three stood staring. Zim dropped his rifle, and fell to his knees.

"You…you have no idea what I've seen…" Zim muttered. "Destroy me if you wish..."

"Zim…you bastard." Tak growled. She picked up a loaded pistol laying next to the hand of a dead officer, and coolly aimed it at Zim's head. She cocked the gun, and touched the trigger. Dib couldn't believe what he was seeing. He felt frozen there, watching with wide eyes as Tak pointed the muzzle of the gun at Zim's head. Zim stared up at her, his eyes full of pain and sadness. Tak lowered the pistol. She de-cocked it, and let it fall to the ground.

"No more killing." She whispered. Dib dropped his rifle, and the three of them drew close, feeling somewhat comforted just by each other's presences.

"It's…It's over, isn't it?" Zim asked. Dib looked out over the battlefield. The bodies of men in blue and grey littered the field like leaves in autumn. As far as the eye could see, the dead and wounded lay where they had fallen, and the living seemed to move in slow motion among them. An eerie silence now gripped the battlefield, and the smoke was lifting on the scene of sadness and destruction.

"Yeah…" Dib finally said. "It's over."

"And the Yankees won…" Zim spoke.

"Did anyone really win?" Dib replied. Tak nodded sadly. Zim looked downward. A tear fell from his face onto the dry dust. A slight breeze picked up, followed by a loud crack like lighting striking close by.

"What the…" Dib exclaimed. Everything went black for the three, and they felt themselves tumbling through a void, as if they had fallen off of a huge cliff. With a painful thud, they landed on the floor of Zim's base, beside the time machine. They lay motionless for a time, not out of pain or disorientation, but for another, deeper reason. Finally Zim sat up. He looked down at his body. His uniform was gone. In its stead, he was wearing his old Invader uniform. As they others finally began to compose themselves, they too noted that their uniforms and gear was missing.

"Ah…" Dib said sadly. Zim looked at him questioningly. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" He added somberly. "The uniforms we had…I guess through the passage of time, they aged as they would have naturally."

"Yes…yes, of course." Zim muttered.

"So…all we have are our memories." Tak added. "Wait though…how did we make it back to our time?" Zim rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Um…I had forgotten." They looked at him quizzically. "I put a three-day failsafe on the device."

"Zim, you idiot!" Tak sneered. She raised a hand to slug him. "Eh, whatever…" She sighed. Dib put his left arm around her shoulders, and they looked into each other's eyes a moment, then hugged each other tightly. Suddenly, there was a crash, and GIR materialized out of the air, and landed upside-down. His head popped open, and out flew a small chip, the behavioral chip Zim had installed.

"GIR!" Zim exclaimed happily. "I thought you were gone forever!"

"Awww…" The little robot said sadly. "That nice Taylor-Major guy was giving me pancakes." Zim smiled. GIR looked up at him. "Oh, and master, you know that nice man with the white beard that you liked sooooo much?"

"Yes, General Lee! What of him?" Zim asked.

"He was crying." GIR said. Zim's shoulders drooped. "He was saying he killed his own men. But I thought the Yankees killed all the confederate men." Tears filled Zim's eyes.

"Yes…thank you, GIR…" Zim said. "You can go…make waffles or…something."

"Yaaayyyy!" GIR shouted happily, before running off.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Zim." Dib said, putting a hand on Zim's shoulder.

"Yeah, me too." Tak added. Zim nodded forlornly.

"We must know!" He suddenly exclaimed.

"Know what?" Dib asked.

"We have to know what happened!" He stood. "Computer!"

"What?" The base computer's A.I. responded unenthusiastically.

"Bring up everything you have on the Civil War."

_With that, the battle is over. But whatever became of General Armistead? Or Hancock? What will the three learn about the aftermath of the battle? Will they ever be the same? Patience my friends, much will be revealed in the next, fact-filled chapter! Until then, please send me your reviews. I'll try to get the next chapter or two up soon. _


	35. Chapter 35: Lessons in Time

Chapter 35: Lessons in Time

Zim, Dib and Tak watched the computer display images of the Civil War. Still images of battlefields and commanders, weapons and uniforms flashed up on the huge screen. To them, everything in the ancient black and whites photographs seemed so recent, so recognizable, so real.

"What did you want to know anyway?" The computer asked uninterestedly.

"What happened to General Lee after Gettysburg?" Zim asked quickly, taking off his human disguise. "And Longstreet! What happened to the confederate army?" The computer sighed.

"General Lee led the confederate army until the Civil War ended in 1865 when he surrendered the Army of the Potomac to Union forces at Appomattox Virginia."

"General Lee…surrendered?" Zim asked sadly, his antennae drooping.

"The confederate army was weakened beyond effective operational strength during and after the battle for Gettysburg, suffering more casualties than it could replace, making surrender the only logical option."

"What about the battle?" Tak interrupted. "How did it end?"

"With an estimated 50,000 casualties on both sides." The computer answered. "The battle is often called the bloodiest battle in American history." The three nodded, as if they had deduced that very fact. The computer went on with the history lesson. "The confederate army, after suffering such a heavy defeat during Pickett's Charge on the third day of fighting, had to withdraw back into Virginia. General Lee had lost many of his best junior field commanders during the battle, included among the dead and wounded: General Isaac Trimble, wounded, General James Kemper, wounded, General Richard Garnett, killed in action, General Dorsey Pender, killed in action…"

"What happened to General Armistead?" Zim suddenly cried out. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to know. "He survived his gunshot, right? And he got to see his friend Hancock again, didn't he?" Dib and Tak grasped each other's hands, silently begging to know the same thing, but afraid of what the answer may be. The computer made a sound like it had cleared it's throat.

"No. General Lewis Armistead was taken to a hospital where he later died from his wounds. Because General Hancock too had been wounded, Armistead was unable to see him before his death. His final words are said to be an apology to Hancock." Zim's eyes filled with tears. He turned away, unable to ask any more about the battle.

"Did…did Hancock die too?" Tak asked.

"No." The computer said. "He survived and became a well known general. Hancock was present during the execution of the assassins of President Lincoln, and he even ran for president of the United States."

"Wow…" Tak said. "What about Sickles…he died…like horribly, didn't he?" She asked in a hopeful tone.

"Actually…" The A.I. responded. "He survived the battle and the war, even though he lost his leg at Gettysburg. He blamed General Meade for his injury, reported to the media that he was the hero of the battle, and later embezzled money appropriated to build a statue of him at the battlefield. He even became an ambassador, having a well-known love affair with a member of a foreign royal family."

"Damn that Sickles…" Tak growled.

"Um…computer?" Dib asked. "What happened to General Buford?"

"He survived the battle, but died in December of 1863 of Pneumonia."

"Oh." Dib said. He sighed. "And Colonel Chamberlain? What happened to him?" A photograph of Chamberlain, taken later in his life popped onto the screen.

"He was wounded six times during the war. Once so badly, it was assumed to be mortal, but he recovered to lead his men until the end of the war. He was promoted to Brevet Major General, and received the Congressional Medal of Honor, the army's highest award. He became president of Bowdoin College in Maine, and four term governor of said state. He published a book about the war, and died in 1914, and is said to be the last Union soldier to die from his wounds. Chamberlain has become famous once again due to his roles in several books and movies about the war. Good for him." Dib was wide eyed, and Tak had an eyebrow raised. Even Zim was staring in wonder.

"Wow…" Dib said. "That's…wow." Tak suddenly remembered something. She reached into her pocket and retrieved the pocket watch and photograph Wood had asked her to take from his pocket. The watch now looked aged, and the photo was yellowed and brittle with age.

"Say, computer?" Tak said. "Could you track down someone for me?"

"Ugh." The computer groaned. "I guess so."

"What are you doing?" Dib asked. Tak smiled at him.

"I have some unfinished business, love." She said. "You ever been to Buffalo?"


	36. Chapter 36: Loose Ends

Chapter 36: Loose Ends

Tak knocked on the wooden door of the small one-story home near Buffalo, New York. She grasped Dib's hand tightly and hoped that the DNA report from Zim's computer was correct, and prayed she would be able to conjure up _something_ to say that would make sense. Of course, who would believe the truth? 'Hi, I knew your ancestor. I fought with him at Gettysburg, in fact. He wanted me to give this to his family, and it's just taken me nearly a century and a half to do it. I hope you like it' She knew better. She had come close to getting killed in the greatest battle in the history of the nation, and Tak didn't feel much like being called a lunatic. There were slow footsteps. Tak looked at Dib and sighed, trying to smile. Just being here, just thinking about why she was here made her remember sergeant Wood, and she felt sad again. The door opened. A woman in her fifties answered.

"Um…yes?" She asked, seeing two kids on her doorstep. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah…" Tak began. "You see…it's hard to explain." She cleared her throat. "I have a watch and an old picture that I think belonged to an ancestor of yours…" The woman looked apprehensive, like she expected Dib and Tak to try to sell her something, or at least rob her. "They belonged to a Sergeant Wood, who was killed in the battle of Gettysburg."

"Well." The woman said with a warm smile. She stepped out onto the small concrete porch. "And how did you manage to find out that it was _my_ ancestor, young lady?"

"Aww," Dib said. "You know you can do all sorts of things with computers these days."

"So I hear." The woman replied. "May I see the picture?" Tak carefully pulled the old photograph from the small bag she carried. She had placed the image in a clear plastic box made for preserving old photographs. The woman took it and looked at it fondly a moment. "You know…" She said, touching a finger lightly to the plastic, as if worried about damaging the picture inside. "That is my great great great grandfather. I've seen a couple more photographs of him before. And that little girl. That's my great great grandmother, Annabelle. My grandmother used to talk about her when I was little."

"Yeah?" Tak asked, feeling comforted by the woman's talk of the family of the man who had been so kind to her during the battle. They sat on the steps as the woman continued her talk.

"Yeah. She said grandma Annabelle was a real pistol. She lived to be over ninety. You know grandma said that she used to ride a horse to town right up into the thirties? Most people had cars by then, but Annabelle would ride right into the city and buy her groceries. She lived where this house is now, actually. And I was told that one time, Annabelle saw a man hitting his wife. Well, she clobbered him!"

"Really?" Tak asked, laughing.

"Yep. Hit him over the head with a brick, and knocked him cold."

"She sounds like she was amazing." Tak said. "Sergeant Wood was amazing too. I mean, he died fighting for his country and his family and everything." The woman beamed a smile.

"I bet he was a great man." The woman said. They sat in silence a few moments. "I tell you what, sweetie, you said you have his watch?" Tak pulled out the pocket watch.

"I have it here. It has his initials on the back, see?" The woman took it and looked it delicately.

"Here." She handed Tak the photograph. "You can keep the picture if you want."

"But I promised…myself that I would give it to his family." Tak protested. The woman smiled again.

"It's okay. Now I have something that belonged to him. Something he probably wore with him everywhere. For going to all the trouble to bring his watch back to his family, I'm sure he would've wanted you to have the photo." Tak looked at the picture and tried to suppress the emotions she was feeling.

"Thank you." She said. "I hate to leave so soon, but Dib and I should be going."

"It's alright." The woman said. "Sure you guys' parents wouldn't mind you staying for dinner though?" Tak smiled as she remembered Sergeant Wood asking her to come to visit his family after the war and have dinner with them. She felt a warmth inside her, and despite the guilt and the sadness she had felt since the battle, it felt as if at least something was put right.

"Sure. We can stay for dinner."


	37. Epilogue

Epilogue

Dib, Tak and Zim walked together through the row of tents at the Civil War reenactment camp. Since their return, for some unspoken reason, the three would travel together to each and every reenactment they could. They rarely spoke of their experience in 1863, and perhaps this gave them some sort of closure. Something about the atmosphere…the smells, the uniforms, the sound of muskets, it all gave them a small bit of comfort. And so, they would travel, sometimes a few hours, sometimes across the country, to visit these 'living histories' as they were called, and try to keep alive that ember inside them, and the memories that they shared. This time, they had flown all the way to an out of the way spot somewhere in the state of Kentucky. This is where the trio now walked through the living history camp, immersing themselves in the sights and sounds.

"You yella', no good for nuthin'…walrus!" Somebody called from inside a large officer's wall tent. They looked through the opening to see two large confederate reenactors bickering while trying to stay historically accurate. Zim smiled, and Dib raised an eyebrow. They walked on past an 1800's style blacksmith's wagon, complete with a forge. The mustached man was bellowing the fire as he puffed on a cigar. Nearby, a tall confederate cavalry officer was leaned back in a wooden folding chair, his booted feet propped up on a wooden box. Tak looked at the ground as they walked. Dib grasped her hand in his.

"Nothing at all like it, are they?" He said in a quiet voice. She looked into his eyes.

"Nothing is like it." She whispered. "How could it be?"

"At least they didn't forget." Zim said. "At least these humans remember." The three stopped at a large tent, the front open, showing various period accurate costumes and supplies for sale. They entered the tent, and browsed through the merchandise. Zim picked up a grey kepi and ran his fingers across it in a nostalgic manner.

"That kepi's twenty dollars." A man behind the small counter said. "I can put whatever trim or insignia on it for you for a little extra."

"I want it." Zim said. He looked at the hat. "But Zim only has eighteen monies."

"Hey Zim." Dib said. Zim turned. The boy handed him a ten dollar bill. "Go ahead. On me, I guess." Zim looked at the bill, then took it carefully.

"Thank you…Dib beast." Zim smiled. "Mr. shopkeep!" He called, walking toward the counter. "I want this cap decorated as that of a soldier in Pickett's Division, make it staff of Armistead's brigade!" The man smiled, and took the hat, along with Zim's money.

"Sure, son." He replied. "One kepi coming up."

"Hey…" Dib remarked. "Why don't we all get kepis? You know, kind of like a memento?" Tak smiled, and began searching for a hat she liked. Finding a union kepi, she walked to the counter, handing to the woman now running the shop while the man fixed up Zim's hat.

"Can you make this a 1st Corps kepi?" She asked.

"Any particular brigade or regiment?" The woman asked.

"Nah. Just staff like his." Tak replied, pointing toward Zim. A look crossed her face, as if remembering a great tragedy. "I like General Reynolds you know." The woman smiled, and took the blue wool cap back to the man. Dib now approached the counter with a blue kepi, a small smile on his face. "Let me guess…" Tak remarked. "Buford's cavalry, right?"

"Nah." Dib answered. "20th Maine." The man looked up from his work.

"Damn…" He commented with a smile. "We got a run on kepis today, don't we?"

A few minutes later, the group exited the tent, wearing their new hats. They passed a couple union soldiers cooking a pot of beans, a few pieces of hardtack on a box.

"Can I have a couple pieces of that?" Tak asked. A union reenactor with corporal stripes on his coat smiled.

"Sure, if 'yall want to attempt it." The other man chuckled as Tak took two pieces of the bread. She handed one to Dib, and started nibbling on her biscuit.

"I don't know how you do it." Dib remarked, looking at his piece as if it were potentially dangerous.

"I don't know why you humans hate hardtack so much." Tak said, breaking off another small bite. "I think it's the best food on the planet."

Up ahead, there were four small canvas tents. A large cannon and a smaller gun were parked in front of the structures. Near the cannons sat three reenactors, wearing confederate artillery uniforms. A confederate artillery officer sat under a nearby tree with a woman, evidently his wife, who was dressed in a period dress. A boy with red corporal stripes lat sleeping nearby. The three stopped and looked at the cannon like patrons of an art museum.

"Like the howitzer, guys?" One of the reenactors asked. They looked up. A man in his mid-twenties with long black hair, who looked a bit like a cross between a native American and a confederate soldier had spoken. He had the red stripes of an artillery corporal, and his belt was laden with knives, pistols and a tomahawk.

"Tell you what I'd like," The reenactor sitting to his right, a strongly built younger man with sergeant stripes commented, standing and looking around. "I'm gonna go get me one of those big cups of mountain dew, and try to find that yankee girl. I'll be back."

"You'd better bring me a sarsaparilla back too, sergeant." The first reenactor commented. "I'll put a blacksnake in your tent while you're sleeping tonight."

"Uh huh…" The sergeant smiled challengingly. He walked off, and the corporal walked up to the trio. The third reenactor, a young woman, stayed behind, obviously happier under the shade of a canvas canopy. "Everyone seems to be drawn to the big guns, but when the battle starts, the infantry gets all the glory." The corporal smiled.

"Didn't matter much during the war." Tak replied. "Artillerymen fought and died with the rest of them." The reenactor nodded.

"Indeed." He mused. "All that mattered then was that you were willing to give everything for what you believed in, whether you were blue or gray."

"And so many did…" Dib said thoughtfully.

"Too many…" Zim added. The reenactor nodded.

"I'm glad you kids understand it." He said. "Too many people today don't even stop to think about the men who fought and died for them 150 years ago. I think some of the guys out here doing this don't even understand how important it is that we do this for them. To keep their memory alive, you know?"

"Hm." Tak said. "You know, you talk a lot like someone from back then."

"Heh. I get that sometimes." The man replied. "I'm so dreadfully old-fashioned. Some people wonder if I actually think I'm in the war." His smile revealed that he was joking. "Seriously. Some people think we should let it go, just forget the past and 'get with the future'…" He said the last part cynically. "I suppose that's why there's no heroes today." He gazed out at the camp a moment. "Hm. Only fossils like us playing heroes."

"Maybe some day there will _be_ men like General Armistead and General Lee." Zim said.

"And great leaders like Hancock and Reynolds." Tak said.

"And Chamberlain." Dib added. "Yeah, I'm sure there will be people like that again.

"I hope so." The reenactor replied. "If we had more men like that in the world…" He paused. "…and more young people who thought like you three…" He chuckled. "I'd retire."

_**An afterword from the author:**__ And so it ends, the Invader Zim Civil War epic 'Invader Zim, The Last Full Measure'. I hope you the reader have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and I hope that all the time and energy I've placed into making this literary endeavor a reality was well spent. I believe it was. I truly do. I had envisioned a fic in which not only the characters, but you the readers were transported to a small farming community that day so many years ago. Hopefully, you experienced the fear, the humor, the humanity and the heartbreak alongside the characters as the story progressed, and learned as they did, the real story behind the facts and pictures found in history books. I also hope that I have kindled some interest in you to learn more about the great war that tore our country apart for 5 years, and I hope that you will continue to look back into history to discover more about who we are as a nation and as individuals._

_The reenactor the characters conversed with in the epilogue was yours truly. The other reenactors with me in the story are members of the Civil War reenactment group I belong to, in which I hold the rank of Corporal, and the duties of quartermaster and Indian scout. I believe in keeping history alive, especially the Civil War, which is what drove me to write this monumental fic in the first place. There are Civil War reenactments all over the United States, and hundreds of independent groups. If you do decide to travel to one, you will not soon forget it, and as most groups are always needing new members, maybe this fic inspires you to join one, and I may help create a new generation of living historians to replace me when I get too old to take the field anymore. Thank you for taking the time to read my work, and I wish you the best. Until my next attempt at fanfiction greatness, I bid you a fond cheerio. –__**Dr. Lovekill**_


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